


Revolution

by TheLiveshipParagon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arrogance, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, British Men of Letters, British Slang, Crowley Being Crowley, Crowley Being an Asshole, Dean can be a dick sometimes, Death, Deception, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Demonic Possession, Dom Crowley, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Human Crowley (Supernatural), Humor, Jealous Dean, Jealousy, Lucifer's Cage, POV Second Person, Possessive Crowley, Possessive Lucifer, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, References to Supernatural (TV), Sassy, Sex, Silly, Slow Burn, Smut, The Winchesters need babying, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 175,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLiveshipParagon/pseuds/TheLiveshipParagon
Summary: You secure the Kansas bunker for the British Men of Letters but two problems have just appeared for you....The Winchesters.





	1. Mission Accomplished

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to finally foray into the Supernatural fandom!

**Objective: Access the Lebanon, Kansas Men of Letters Stronghold and Establish a Usable Base for the British Order.**

 

You smile as you finally tap the check button on your phone, letting command know you had finished the mission.

It had taken you a hell of a long plane journey, car journey and about two weeks worth of clearing up to get the Kansas bunker workable again. The old deco lamps were humming brightly, bringing a cheerier vibe to the rooms and the air filtration system was finally working without any hiccups.  
  
Your phone beeps as you receive a text:

 

_Good work. Await next instructions_   
  


 

You spent the rest of the day busying yourself with the library, trying to find books that would be of some use to the new overseas unit. After hefting around several volumes your stomach began growling. Best to make a supply run, you think. The last few days had been pretty heavy on the calorie burn whilst you were shifting furniture about and tweaking the machinery and you'd run through your food stores.

You climb into your trusty old Ford Cortina, the one you'd insisted on having shipped over to you if you were going to have to emigrate to this godforsaken place, and fire up the engine, hearing it purr. You set off to the nearest store.

Some time later, after choosing some carb heavy snacks, including some cheesecake just for a treat, you pull into the space by the entrance. You stop for a moment, glancing at the car next to you that shouldn't be there. You ready your revolver and step out, grocery bags crooked over one arm, the other holding the gun tight to your body. You open the door and hear the sound of voices abruptly stop. You hover in the entranceway, trying to spot any movement and dump the shopping bags to give you better stealth.

“Hello?” a male voice calls out.

Like you were going to answer, you snort. You see a very tall man with shaggy brown hair step out into the entrance hall, gun raised and you duck back out of sight.

You peek around the corner and see he's joined by a shorter man with closer cut hair, also carrying a gun.

Shit, you think. You wait until they were just coming up the stairs and jump out, smacking the taller one in the face with the butt of your revolver. He falls backwards, careening into the other male and they land in a heap at the bottom, guns flying across the floor.

“Hands where I can see them, lads,” you say, pointing your gun at them.

It takes them a while to regain their senses but they soon realise the trouble they're in and reluctantly hold their hands in the air.

“Now, who the hell are you?” you ask. “And what are you doing here?”

“Listen here, you tea drinking-” the shorter male begins but you cut him off.

“Ah ah, I have the gun here, lumberjack, now answer the question.”

The shorter male turns to the other guy and mouths 'Lumberjack?' with an incredulous expression.

The taller one shakes his head, “We're here because it's our birthright. Our grandfather was in the Men of Letters, Henry Winchester. We got this key and we wanted to know more about it.”

“Winchester?” you say, eyes wide. Just perfect that you would come across these two idiots. The British order had told you a lot about their constant meddling and how often they almost brought about the apocalypse.

“Yeah, I'm Sam, this is Dean,” Sam says, gesturing to his brother.

“Oh I know who you are, really the plaid should have given it away,” you say sarcastically.

“Guess we're famous,” Dean says, cockily smiling.

“Famous for being absolute fools, yes. What gives you the right to think you deserve to be here? To see all this knowledge? To use all these tools? We constantly have to clean up your mistakes.”

They both look surprised.

“What do you mean?” Sam says.

“I'm with the British Men of Letters,” you reply, still not lowering your gun. “We've been keeping tabs on you for sometime. We've always been in the background taking care of the mess you leave behind.”

“Now hang on,” Sam says, frowning deeply.

“No, you hang on. I want that key and I want you out of here. You don't belong here.” You point the gun more forcefully.

Sam and Dean back away after glaring at you. You come down the stairs and hold out one outstretched hand, waiting for them to hand the key over.

Dean looks plaintively at the small piece of metal, torn about what to do before he approaches you, holding out his arm. You look down for a second at his hand and realise your mistake as soon as you do it. His other hand snaps out and grabs your wrist, bending it round so you drop the gun. You yelp and spin round, slamming your elbow into his stomach. He grimaces, the wind gone from his lungs and staggers backwards. Sam barges into you from the side, knocking you to the ground and you scramble to regain your footing, kicking out at his knee as you do so which sends him crashing to the floor. You stand up and dodge quickly as Dean throws a punch at your head before hitting him square in the chest. Sam rejoins the melee and tries to pull your legs out from under you but you kick him squarely in the throat and he reels back spluttering.

“Sammy!” Dean cries and launches himself at you. You both hit the ground and wrestle with each other for a while before you manage to pull your knees up to your chest and kick him away. You try and regain yourself but you feel Dean's weight bearing down on your body and hear a small click. You look up and see a gun pointed at your head. You're raging inside, annoyed they had gotten the upper hand but you hold up your arms in surrender.

“Not today, sweetheart,” Dean says, smirking. “Think we'll be sticking around a little longer.”

“If you're going to be difficult about it could you at least bring the food shopping in?” you say, one eyebrow cocked. “The ice cream is going to melt.”

Dean laughs and looks at Sam who has picked himself up off the floor and is rubbing his throat viciously, “Hear that Sammy? This British chick has sass.”

Sam just grumbles and goes upstairs muttering, “I'll get some rope.”

You stare aggressively at Dean who just flashes you a shit eating grin whilst keeping the gun trained on you.

Sam returns and Dean gets off you before saying, “Just for insurance.”

They tie you to a chair from the main hall and despite your best struggles, you're stuck fast.

“Sit tight,” Dean says before chuckling to himself, realising the pun he's made. “Heh, sit tight.”

“Dean,” Sam says pointedly.

“Right right. What are you doing here in Kansas?”

“I'm not going to tell you anything,” you say, huffily.

“You don't have to,” Sam says. “Your phone's on the table. I just read the message. Why do the British Men of Letters want this place so badly?”

You stay silent.

“Huh, playing hard ball?” Dean says, getting up. “Two can play at that game.”

He disappears out of sight and Sam tries to question you some more but you say nothing. Soon Dean returns with your shopping and puts the cheesecake on the counter.

“See, I know when someone buys this large of a dessert, it means they're treating themselves, which means you really wanted this, didn't you?”

He starts opening the packaging and brings out a spoon that had been in the kitchen.

You still say nothing but you're getting wound up. You've had no sweet treats for some time and you were really looking forward to celebrating. It was not often you found your favourite flavour.

“So here's the deal, sweetcheeks, I'm going to eat this right in front of you unless you tell me what we want to know.”

“Dean,” Sam says, head in his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Shush Sammy, I can see it in her eyes, she's cracking.”

He takes a huge scoop straight into the centre of the cheesecake. Man it really pisses you off that he didn't even start from the outside. He shovels the spoon into his mouth and makes overdramatic moaning sounds.

“Oh that is so good.”

Sam gives you an embarrassed look as you look on, horrified as he chews loudly.

“Would you just stop that?!” you cry.

“See, told you it would work,” Dean says, grinning.

“I think she's more distressed that you eat with your mouth open, Dean,” Sam says quietly.

“Fine. This obviously isn't working,” Dean says, throwing the spoon on the table. You wince as the metal clangs on the recently polished wood. “Let's just lock her up and get on with our case. We can figure out what to do when we get back. I don't have time to play interrogator.”

They scour the bunker, mapping out each of the rooms before reconvening.

“There's a holding room for demons down the hall,” Sam says. “It has a chair with shackles. That'll hold her til we get back.”

“Kinky,” Dean laughs.

“You're not leaving me in there!” you shout and struggle harder against the rope.

“Ah give it up, princess,” Dean sighs. “We got you.”

You quietly seethe as they escort you at gunpoint to the holding room before locking you into the chair, your arms and legs firmly bound.

“What if I need the toilet?” you call as they make tracks to leave.

“Hold it,” Dean shouts back.

You scream with rage and strain as hard as you can against the harsh metal shackles but try as you might, they don't budge. You slump back in the chair, head lolling back and stare at the ceiling. Just your luck. You wonder how you're ever going to get out of this.

Hours pass and you fall into an uneasy sleep, one plagued by nightmares. You awaken in a cold sweat to see Sam standing over you, a look of concern on his face.

“What?” you spit aggressively.

“Nothing. You just talk in your sleep,” he replies with a look of pity.

You flush, embarrassed, hoping whatever you said was not too private. You shuffle awkwardly.

Sam comes closer to you, seemingly hesitant, “Listen, we don't really want to fight with you. All we want is to discover our heritage, to learn, to become better hunters. Surely if we're such screw ups, learning a few new things can't hurt, can it?”

You stare at the floor. It did make a lot of sense to you. People could always change their ways. Hell, you weren't perfect when you started training, but you still had your superior's opinions floating in your head, telling you that the Winchesters were bad news.

Sam sees your turmoil and drops to a squatting position, “Look, I understand you've probably heard and seen a few unfavourable things about us but we try. We didn't really ask for this life but we try our hardest to save people. There's nothing left of the American Men of Letters, could you not just try and help us rebuild it? Maybe we could become something better?”

“You might,” you answer after a long pause. “Your brother, maybe not so much. He doesn't look like he reads anything more complicated than comic books.”

Sam chuckles to himself, “Will you help us?”

You think it over. Maybe this is what America needed, a new established Men of Letters group being guided by the British contingent.

“Yeah, I will,” you say.

Sam smiles widely, “Great. I'll just go talk to Dean about it.”

Both brothers return sometime later and Dean stands there with his arms folded. “Normally I wouldn't be doing this because my gut tells me you're going to betray us some point down the line but I'm in a good mood today because I killed Hitler, so we're going to let you go.”

You look at Sam, completely confused and see him roll his eyes, “Just unlock her, Dean.”

Your shackles are unlocked and you're pulled to a standing position. You stretch out, working out the kinks in your muscles.

“So, got a name?” Sam asks, holding out a hand.

“My code name is Tabitha, maybe I'll tell you my real one someday,” you hold out your hand and shake Sam's.

“Nice to meet you, Tabitha,” Sam replies.

You hold out your hand to Dean and he looks at you for a second, wary of your sudden acceptance before taking your hand and shaking it himself.

“Yeah yeah, nice to meet you too. I'm going to call you Tabby though.”

“No you bloody well will not,” you say, “I'm not a cat.”

You can see Sam trying to stifle laughter and Dean, despite himself, breaks out into a grin.

You walk back into the main hall and you sit in a chair. Dean sits opposite and holds out a spoon.

“Truce?” he says.

You take the spoon and sink it into the remainder of the cheesecake, getting a large hunk balanced on it.

“Truce,” you say, before finally getting to enjoy your dessert.

 


	2. Boston Tea Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters receive a frantic call from Kevin.

The Winchester brothers settled in pretty quickly. Dean takes up residence in one of the larger bedrooms, peppering the storage boxes with vinyl records and happily playing them at full volume whilst he made the space his own. Sam was a little more conservative and orderly, tidying his clothes away neatly and setting up a desk workspace for his laptop.

They were wary of you at first, especially the older brother but they soon started to relax when you started showing them some of the Men of Letters lore. Sam was particularly excited and very eager to learn. You felt like you were really starting something good here, something that would benefit the world.

On one particular night you were talking about good ways to dispatch vampires. Dean had his legs cocked onto the neighbouring chair and was knocking back a beer and Sam was hunched over the texts you were showing him.

“That's really useful,” Sam said, smiling widely as you told him a different technique.

“You know,” Dean began, pointing his bottle at you, “You're not bad for a Brit.”

“No offence taken,” you say, eyebrow raised and smirking. “We don't all have sticks up our arses.”

“Ah a party girl?” Dean chuckles.

“Let's just say most of your vinyl collection I've seen live.”

“Ohhhh,” Dean grins at Sam, “Now I really like her.”

Sam frowns, “Dean, can we concentrate?”

Dean's phone on the table starts buzzing and he leans up to grab it. “It's Kevin.”

“Kevin?” you ask Sam.

“He's our friend. He's...ah...a prophet of God,” Sam shrugs.

“A prophet of God?!” you say, surprised. “Why didn't you tell me you knew one?”

“We haven't exactly known you long,” Sam says, kind of sheepishly.

You nod your head, “That's fair.”

You turn back to Dean who looks concerned, “Woah woah, hold on. Explain it slower. Uh huh.....uh uh....we're coming over. Don't move.” He ends the call and stands up.

“Come on, Sammy, he needs us.”

Sam stands, readying himself. You stay where you are, unsure if you're invited or not. You're extremely curious about the Prophet but you're in a delicate situation of fragile trust and you don't want to tip the scales.

“You too, scones,” he says, ushering you to follow.

“Scones?” you say incredulously.

“Would you prefer I say crumpets?” Dean says with a short shrug and starts walking to the entrance door.

“Just because I have a posh accent doesn't mean I sit around eating Battenburg and shooting pheasants,” you snap.

“What's Battenburg?” Dean asks, puzzled, one hand on the door.

“It's cake. Never mind, let's go.”

You walk out and go to open your car.

“Yo, Tabs, we're going in my baby,” Dean calls. Sam just gives you an amused look.

You sigh and climb into the backseat of the Impala. You feel uncomfortable not driving but you keep it to yourself. Dean cranks up the music, Boston blaring out of the speaker and you set off.

Eventually you find yourself at the docks and to a boat. Sam knocks gently on the door in the hull. “Kevin? It's Sam and Dean.”

The door opens sharply and you see a dishevelled kid, eyes marred by huge bags and hair sticking out all over the place. This was the Prophet? He wasn't what you expected.

“I found it! I found it guys!” he babbles before turning and spotting you. “Wait, who's this?”

“She's with us,” Sam replied. “She's with the British Men of Letters.”

“Oh,” Kevin says with no apparent interest. You feel a little aggrieved but you keep quiet.

“What have you found, kid?” Dean asks.

“I've found a way to close the gates of Hell forever,” Kevin says, eyes wide with excitement.

“Wait, what?” Dean says.

“It's all in the tablet I just translated,” Kevin rambles, hands shaking.

“Kevin,” Sam says, taking Kevin's hands and steadying them. “When was the last time you slept?”  
  
“I don't remember,” he answers with blank eyes. “It doesn't matter. This matters. Come on.”

He pulls Sam in through the bulkhead urgently and Dean follows, giving you a confused glance. You follow behind him, pulling the door closed, checking you weren't followed.

Kevin goes over to his papers, flinging the unnecessary ones around him until he lands across the one he wants. He holds it up and shakes it violently. “This is it. There are three trials of God that must be performed and then the gates of Hell will be shut.”

“Is that it?” Dean asks, hopefully.

“They're not simple if that's what you're hoping,” Kevin cuts in. “I can tell you the first one. The chosen person must bathe in the blood of a Hellhound.”

“Oh so just a walk in the park then,” Dean sighs,

“No it's not that difficult,” you interject. “You need to find somebody who's made a crossroads deal and is coming to the end of the ten years.”

“She's right,” Sam says. “Hellhounds always show up to collect.”

“So if we can find a person who's made a deal, we can gank a Hellhound? Guess we gotta look for someone with some extremely good luck that started ten years ago,” Dean summarises.

You and Sam nod.

“Alright, we'll get to work on that. Could you write down the other trials of God for us, kiddo?” Dean asks Kevin.

Kevin nods rapidly.

“And can you get some rest?” Sam says in a fatherly way.

“Can't promise, the caffeine kicked in an hour ago,” Kevin smiles slightly.

“Take care of yourself,” Dean says, patting him on the shoulder.

You return to the car and get back in. The drive back is full of excited chatter between the two brothers as they plan their mission.

Dean looks up in the rear view mirror at you, “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“He was...not what I expected,” you say truthfully.

Sam smiles, turning round to you, “We didn't expect it either. Kevin's a good kid, he's been through some horrific stuff lately.”

You nod quietly.

Once back at the bunker you all begin researching in the nearby area for anyone who has had extreme luck ten years ago. The coffee and beers flow as you dig further into newspaper articles and website announcements.

“Here!” Sam says, ushering you both to stand behind him. “There's a family that struck oil in Shoshone, Idaho ten years ago. Issue is, there's never been a record of any oil there previously and it's made the family that discovered it very rich.”

“That's gotta be it,” Dean says pointing at the screen. “What's say we pay them a visit and see if we can rodeo a Hellhound.”

Sam stands and Dean motions to you, “I think you should stay here and try and find some more potential leads just in case this one is a dud.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You mean you don't trust me enough on something this important.”

“Smart,” Dean nods. “Yeah, no offence. This is something Sammy and I have to do alone.”

You fight against your natural instinct to take control of the situation. You still haven't received anything from the British order so right now you're at a loss of what to do. As much as you'd love to be involved in ridding the world of demons forever, you want to keep this alliance going for now.

You nod in acquiescence and Sam squeezes your shoulder, thankful that you understand. Both boys load up on weapons before leaving.

The door slams and you're alone, the sound echoing throughout the halls.

What now?

You turn back to your computer but you've lost the motivation for further research. You decide to get some fresh air outside and pull on your coat, making sure to keep your revolver on you.

The air outside is crisp and cold and you breathe it in, sighing. It's good to properly stretch your legs. You walk down the road, taking your time, just enjoying the sun beating down upon you, warming your body. There's barely a cloud in the sky and you lazily let your head fall back for a second, eyes closed.

There's a sudden presence. You feel it materialise before you and you snap your eyes open, hand already pulling the gun from your coat and pointing it forward.

A man stands before you in a long black coat, hands dug into the pockets. He reeks of expensive cologne and sulfur and he looks pointedly at the gun you're holding.

“Charming way to say hello,” he rasps, in a gravelly voice. You note he has the same accent as you do.

“Who are you and what do you want?” you ask, eyes trained on him.

He purses his lips, “So demanding. Bet you're used to being in control.” He raises an eyebrow and grins lasciviously.

“If you don't tell me within the next ten seconds, I'm going to pull the trigger, so start talking,” you say firmly.

“Try it, love,” he grins. “That little peashooter won't do anything.”

You call him on his bluff and fire a shot. It hits him straight in the chest and he stumbles backwards. To your horror, he stands back up straight, his chest free of any blood, only the hole in his suit jacket belying anything had actually happened.

“Now that was just rude,” he growls. “This is an expensive suit.”

“Whoops,” you say casually, trying to keep yourself calm.

“Maybe I should teach your some manners,” the man says darkly.

“Manners would be telling me your name when I ask for it,” you say sarcastically, tucking the gun away into your coat.

The man paces a time, rubbing the stubble on his chin before deciding, “Fine. Names Crowley, also known as the King of Hell.”

His eyes flash red and you try to bury the rising fear you feel. You've faced demons sure but never somebody on this level. He tries to read your expression, hoping he's elicited some terror or reverence but upon seeing your stoic expression he becomes angry.

“Clearly that means nothing to a cretin like yourself,” he spits. “I could kill you with a simple click of my fingers.”

“But you haven't,” you say calmly. “Which means you need me for something. So spit it out.”

Crowley blanches, not used to someone treating him with such indifference before he regains his composure, “Smart girl. I need information.”

“And what makes you think I'm going to help a demon...and the king of Hell at that,” you say, folding your arms.

“Cocky aren't we?” Crowley sneers. “Maybe because I'll stop our little arrangement on the British Isles.”

You have no idea of what he's referring to and you look at him blankly. “Sorry?”

Crowley's eyes go wide and he smiles unnervingly, chuckling with a low rumble, “Oh...I see they didn't tell you that when they sent you over here. Well, aren't you in for a surprise?”

He turns and starts walking down the road. You fight with yourself between trusting that he's not lying and thinking this is just a ploy but you're too curious to stop yourself and you find yourself walking next to him.

“What do you mean? What arrangement?”

“Your superiors. They made a deal with me a long while ago that I would keep my minions out of the UK in exchange for not culling our numbers elsewhere.”

You stop, looking at him horrified, “They did what?!”

Crowley turns with graceful movements back to you and comes close, close enough that you can now detect a faint scent of whiskey, “Didn't you think it was strange that you've never fought a demon on British soil? You always fought them in Europe or Asia or here? That's because of the arrangement. So...now I'm going to ask for something to sweeten the deal. I want to know why you're working with Moose and Squirrel.”

You blink, confused, “Who?”

Crowley rolls his eyes, “Sam and Dean Winchester, darling, keep up”

“I'm working with them to re-establish the American Men of Letters. Nothing more to it than that,” you say bluntly, squaring your shoulders. You refuse to be intimidated by this demon.

“Oh no, well, see, I can't have that. It spoils my plans,” Crowley says, grabbing you by your coat lapel and pulling you forward, “So here's what's going to happen, you're going to feed me information on what the Hardy boys are up to and in return, I won't overrun our dear home country with the worst that Hell has to offer. So, what do you say?”

You swivel out of his grasp, shoving him backwards. He looks surprised.

“I'm going to have to respectfully decline,” you hiss. You know you're potentially ending a lot of innocent lives with this sentence but you can't give up the knowledge of the tablet. If you have to sacrifice a few people to close Hell forever, you were damn well going to do that and after that revelation about your superiors, you felt like you owed them nothing. It made you sick to think they would stoop this low to save their own skins.

“I don't think I heard you correctly, I believe you just said no to me,” Crowley growls.

“You heard right,” you spit back. “And I won't stop until I bring all of the American hunters down on you, fully trained and fully loaded.”

Crowley straightens his coat, glaring, his eyes fully red, “So be it, you've made your choice darling. You know where I'll be when you change your mind and I'll be demanding a lot more payment when you do.”

He vanishes before you.

You let out the breath you've been holding in and feel the tension headache starting.

You run back to the bunker, slamming the door shut and reinforcing some of the warding. You walk down the main room and see your phone blowing up with calls from the British Order. You reject them.

 

**Operative message: What have you done?**

 

**Operative message: Traitor**

 

**Operative message: Field agent, code name Tabitha, approved for termination**

 

You throw the phone against the wall, smashing it into tiny pieces. You didn't care. What the Winchesters were doing was more important than their petty politics.

Some time later, the brothers come back. Dean looks angry and Sam looks completely drained.

“What happened?” you ask.

“We got the hellhound,” Sam says, smiling weakily.

“But Sam has lined himself up to do the trials,” Dean spits, fists balled. “It should have been me, man.”

“Dean, we've gone over this, it's done. I can do this,” Sam says, furrowing his brow. “You gotta trust me.”

Dean comes forward and steps on the remnants of your phone and he looks up at you surprised, “What's going on?”

“I bumped into the King of Hell,” you say, a little embarrassed.

“Crowley?!” Dean cries, coming up to you and searching your eyes, looking for any hint that you've betrayed them.

“He offered me a deal. If I sold you out, he'd keep his arrangement going with the British Men of Letters. I didn't know what he meant but my superiors have made a deal with him that stops demons coming into the UK and unleashing them everywhere else.”

“And?” Dean says, getting right in your face, Sam tries to pull him back but Dean shrugs him off.

“I told him he could swivel basically,” you say, stern faced. “What you're doing, it's too important. I don't care how much the British order has fed me lies about how dreadful you are, I've seen it for myself that you're doing good in this world. If you really can close the gates of Hell I am going to be right beside you helping you achieve that.”

Dean studies you for a time, seeing the truth on your face and steps back, “So what's the deal with the phone then?”

“Oh well, I guess Crowley started having demons pop up around England so now I'm marked for termination for being a traitor. Viva la revolucion, right?” you laugh unconvincingly.

“You did that for us?” Sam says, amazed.

“She totally did,” Dean says, eyes wide, seeing your serious face. “She Boston Tea Partied this bitch.”

“I think I'm going to change the locks if that's ok with you guys,” you say, trying to look away from their admiring gazes. “I don't really want to be shot in my sleep.”

“Uh sure, sure,” Sam says. “Are you ok?” He notices you've gone tense.

You feel the sting of tears come into your eyes and you blink them back, “Not really but I'll be ok in the end.”

Both brothers come and hug you and you feel the genuine warmth flowing off of them.

“Don't worry,” Dean says, protectively squeezing you. “We won't let them get you.”

“I appreciate it,” you hum and hold them harder.

 

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

 

Down in the bowels of Hell, languishing on the throne, Crowley barks his orders at the terrified demon before him.

“Report!”

“Uh, yes, your majesty. Uh, activity is up sixfold in England with the crossroads now being repopulated. The Men of Letters are requesting your presence.”

“They can wait,” Crowley says dismissively.

He was distracted. The English girl played on his mind. Nobody had ever talked back to him like that bar Moose and Squirrel and nobody in their right mind should have turned down such an easy deal.

The Winchesters must be up to something.

“You,” he said, pointing at a demon cowering around a pillar.

“Yes, your majesty?” it stammers.

“I want you to find out everything you can on the Men of Letters Agent called Tabitha.”

“Certainly,” the demon says, bowing pitifully before it disappears.

Crowley crooks his leg up over one side of the throne and ponders. Tabitha, he thought. How he'd like to break her will, to see her beg before him, to watch that insolent cheek be wiped from her face. He smiled at the thought.

Dark thoughts ran through his mind and the image of you squaring up to him played over and over. _I will break you._

 

 


	3. A Heavy Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious case arises in Lincoln Springs and you go with Sam and Dean to check it out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't intend to write this much but oh well haha.

Time moves on. You fight witches, meet gods and eat a lot of burgers in the days ahead. You can almost forget you have a target on your back. You've settled into the hunter life with ease, not something you'd ever thought you'd do being a scout for the British order, but it makes you happy for the first time in a long time.

The brothers have started to trust you more and more, Dean even lending you one of his vinyl records which you consider to be his version of 'I like you'.

But...there's something you notice. There's something wrong with Sam. You've always been a good reader of people and you know he's hiding something. He starts becoming a little withdrawn, a little secretive. You spot the real problem one morning after he leaves the bathroom, a blood flecked tissue discarded in the wastepaper basket. Well that wasn't normal. You tried to ask him about it but he just brushed you off and said he'd sneezed too hard and gave himself a noseblood.

“Hey this looks a little sus,” he says, trying to distract you from your line of questioning. “Lincoln Springs, Missouri. Some weird deaths going on.”

“Think there's a case?” Dean asks, tossing a baseball up and down.

“Sure looks like it. Let's check it out?” he suggests, giving you a furtive look as if he thought you'd say something.

Not my place to, you think. “Roll out,” you say, grabbing your long coat. You still refuse to bow to the unofficial fashion sense of American hunters. No plaid for you.

You walk outside the bunker and Dean immediately goes for the Impala. You roll your eyes and go to your Cortina.

“Hey Tabs, where you going?” he calls, arms outstretched.

“My girl hasn't had a good run in weeks, Dean. I'm taking her out,” you say, dismissing him with a wave.

“But...baby,” Dean mutters, stroking the roof of the car.

“You should know better than anyone Dean that old girls like these need to keep moving.”

Sam interjects, “Just let her drive, Dean. Saves us some fuel.”

Dean puts his hands on his hips and huffs loudly, “Fine, but I'm calling shotgun.”

“No you're not,” Sam says.

Both boys look at each other challengingly for a second before they make a beeline for the Cortina. They push and shove each other until Dean manages to slide into the passenger side. You sigh and enter the driver's seat, Sam climbing into the back.

“Better luck next time, Sammy,” Dean grins.

“Jerk,” Sam mutters.

“Bitch,” Dean counters.

You start the engine, feeling the seat thrum with the vibration of the engine. Dean looks over and gives you a look of mild approval. Your CD deck starts up automatically and She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult starts blasting.

“Oh god, not you too,” Sam groans.

“Sorry Sam, not an Enya fan,” you smirk, pitching the gear into reverse and rolling out of the parking spot. You rev the engine, feeling the dust shake from it and line up onto the road before unleashing the raw power in the car and sending it hurtling forward.

Dean's whooping beside you, “Hell yeah! This is awesome!”

Spurred on, you give it a little more gas and are pressed backwards into the seat. Dean's laughter just gets louder. You slow down a little once you get to an actual freeway and stop at an intersection. You look in the rear view mirror and see Sam is clinging onto the front seats, knuckles white and face pale.

“You ok there, big guy?” you laugh.

Dean turns round and grins, clapping Sam on the shoulder, “Dude that was fricking awesome. Great idea to let her drive.”

“Hmm,” is all Sam manages as he prises his fingers off the leather and sits back, breathing deeply.

You don't subject him to any more speeding for the rest of the trip and you soon end up in Lincoln Springs. You grab your fake FBI badges and head for a house, Sam knocking on the door. A man with a worried brow answers.

“Agents McVie, Fleetwood and Nicks,” Sam starts, “Can we have a moment of your time please, sir?”

The man lets you in and tells you that his wife has been acting strangely. Seems like someone might have been killing demons posing as normal citizens around the town, you surmise. You all are unsure what to think. He gives you a potential lead, a map of the town that was being constructed and a mysterious woman and you make to set off.

You go to the address you're given and enter. A woman is bound to the chair and you rush towards her but before you can free her, a knock sounds at the door. Three people enter and as soon as they set eyes on the brothers, their irises disappear behind a wall of black. Oh boy, here we go.

You all bare your angel blades. They look at you hatefully before springing upon you. You smack the one that flies at you with the butt of the blade, sending him skittering backwards. He's not down for long and launches again but you're ready and you twist out of the way, driving the blade up into its ribs, watching the body flash as the demonic force is extinguished. The corpse drops to the floor and you turn your attention to the Winchesters. Dean seems to be doing fine, he's got one pinned onto the ground and he's struggling with it to push the blade down into its chest but Sam's in trouble. He's been flung across the room, dazed by the impact and the demon is stalking towards him, knife outstretched.

“Sam!” you call out, running towards him.

The demon raises the knife but never brings it down. A curious flapping of feathers wafts through the room and the demon is run through with a blade but the essence escapes, snaking its way towards the bound woman before filling her lungs. The body drops to the floor, motionless revealing a man in a trenchcoat with the most serious face you've ever seen.

“Cas?” Sam blurts.

“Cas?!” Dean cries as he finally sinks the blade into the remaining demon.

“Hello,” the man says in a deadpan voice.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Dean roars.

“I...uh....I can't say,” he answers. He catches sight of you and his eyes become unreadable. “Who is this?”

Sam pulls himself up from the floor and rubs his head, “Uh, this is Tabitha, she is...well was, with the British Men of Letters. She's helping us.”

“Pleased to meet you,” you say, holding out your hand.

The man just stares at it as if expecting it do something.

“Cas, man, don't be rude,” Dean chides. “This is Castiel, he's an angel.”

“I've met a few in my time,” you say quietly.

“That's why your name is familiar,” Castiel muses, nodding. “You're the one that punched Nuriel. He often speaks of you.”

“Wait, you punched an angel?” Dean asks, face uncomprehending.

“Long story,” you say shrugging. “He pissed me off.”

Dean gives you a look that says, 'you're going to tell me about this later' before saying 'Fine. Tabs, would you mind giving us a minute? We have some private stuff to talk about.”

You're a little hurt that he's shutting you out but you don't protest and you nod quickly before leaving the house. You guess whatever it is they have to catch up on, you're not at that level of trust yet.

You walk to the Cortina, leaning on the bonnet and folding your arms. You feel like a little like you were given a time out. You check your new phone, scanning the daily news when a hand snakes around your neck and covers your mouth, pulling you backwards across the car. You struggle but feel a sharp pain as something is thrust into your neck. A syringe. Bollocks. You let your guard down.

You feel the wisp of breath from your assailant as they lean into your ear, “Hello, my dear.” You recognise that voice, the voice of Arthur Ketch, the Men of Letter's boogeyman. God you were really in trouble now.

You felt the energy drain out of your muscles and you slump backwards against him. “We are a lucky girl, normally I'd just snap your neck and have done with it but there's someone who really wants to talk with you.”

You make a conscious effort to drop your phone and stand on it a little to break the screen. If Sam and Dean come out, you want them to immediately think something was wrong. Ketch starts to throw you over his shoulder and walks you to a black car with tinted windows before shoving you unceremoniously in.

You fade in and out of consciousness, the rocking of the car only serving to disorientate you more until Ketch finally drives into an underground parking lot.

You have no strength to fight back as he drags you out and hoists you on his shoulders again, shutting the car door as if he were simply handling groceries. He walks to the service elevator and steps in, pressing the penthouse number.

“You know, I never pegged you for a traitor, Tabitha,” he says, deliberately jerking you upwards so you land with your stomach on his shoulder. The wind is driven out of you and you wheeze pathetically. “Were two Yanks really all it took? If I'd of known that I could have got you an American to play with but...silly girl, you've really made a rod for your own back now.”

You wished he would shut up. If he was going to kill you you wanted it over with, not a damned monologue.

The elevator pings and Ketch walks out into a luxurious room lined with expensive furnishings, sumptuous carpets and decorative ornaments.

“As promised,” he says, dumping you on the ground and you feel the shockwaves travel up your bones.

“Twat,” you mutter, your vision slowly starting to focus again.

“She really does ooze charm, doesn't she?” a raspy voice sounds out from the sofa.

No....that can't be...

You look up and see the shape of Crowley, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and a tumbler dangling in his hand.

“She's always had an unfortunate rebellious streak,” Ketch answers with disdain.

“Thought with your...boarding school kind of training you might have beaten it out of her,” Crowley says, one eyebrow raised as he takes a long sip of his drink.

Ketch just smiles unconvincingly before shoving you forward with his boot into Crowley's direct line of sight, “Our deal?”

“Yes yes. You've completed your side and I am a demon of my word. I'll call off my minions,” he says, waving his hand dramatically. “There. Done. Now get out, you're spoiling my ambiance.”

You see Ketch's lip twitch in annoyance but he keeps himself composed and walks back towards the elevator, giving you a small shrug just before the doors close.

You try to get up but your legs are not co-operating, still under the effects of whatever you were injected with.

“I wouldn't do that, darling, you're probably better on the floor for now,” Crowley chuckles.

“Why?” you ask, struggling to get the word out.

Crowley leans forward, “Why? You mean why reinstate my deal just to get you here?”

You nod though the motion makes you feel sick.

“Because nobody ever says no to me.” His eyes flash red but you're beyond fear at this point. You just feel numb.

“What you mean is I hurt your pride and now you're going to take it out on me like a spoilt brat?” you spit.

“Smart girl,” he rumbles. “Very smart but alas, the whips and chains will have to wait, though I do so like that part.”

He gets up off the sofa and begins pacing in front of you. “You see, I've been taking a leaf out of Moose and Squirrel's book and doing some research, specifically, research on you, my dear.”

You feel your face drain of colour.

He points his tumbler at you and smirks, “Thought that might get your attention. And whilst doing said research, I found something...very interesting. Leverage.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as he comes up to you, forehead practically resting against yours. He whispers your name, your true name and you blanch. He laughs croakily and stares at you intensely.

“Now I definitely have your attention. So I'm going to make you a deal and it's a deal I promised you would have a steeper price attached to it. You feed me information on the Winchesters or I eviscerate your brother that you've got stashed away in Bruges right now.”

Your eyes go wide. How could he possibly have know where Alistair was?! You made sure to burn the records of his very existence and you put him in a safehouse. There should have been nothing tying him to you.

“I love it when I'm right,” Crowley smirks. “Game, set and match, darling.”

He stands up, watching the horror sink into your face, revelling in it. “What's it going to be, little Tabitha? The Winchesters? Or dear sweet Alistair?”

You don't get a chance to answer, a demon appears, frantic and babbling, “Your majesty!”

“What?!” Crowley roars, rounding on the man. “I'm a little busy here!”

“I'm...I'm sorry, your majesty...ah...the...the...”

“Spit it out!” Crowley snarls.

“The Winchesters are coming!”

“Bollocks!” Crowley swears, running a hand through his hair viciously. He turns to you and breathes in sharply, “Excuse me, my dear. Business to attend to. Don't go anywhere. You, minion, watch her.”

He vanishes.

The demon looks at you nervously as you make an effort to get up.

“No no, please stay, he'll kill me if you go,” he pleads. “I'm up for a promotion soon.”

You look disbelievingly at the demon. Is he serious? You manage to stand on your feet without pitching to the side and stand there for a while, trying to regain your balance.

“Sit down,” the demon says. “I can make us some tea?”

“How on earth did you go down to hell?” you ask, slightly disgusted by how fawning he was.

“Oh, you know, corporate embezzlement that left hundreds in poverty,” he smiles as if he's pleased with himself.

Quick as a flash, you draw the small runed knife from your jeans waistband and thrust it into his neck. The smoke billows out of his mouth, drawn back through the floor, not dead but not in your way either. Good riddance.

You stumble towards the door and make your way to the main elevator. You weren't going to chance Ketch still being around in the parking lot. You walk ungracefully out of the lobby entrance, the receptionist giving you a bewildered look and head for the nearest payphone. You dial Dean's number and he answers immediately.

“Tabs?! Where the hell did you go?! Are you ok?!”

“Men of Letters,” you pant. “Took me to Crowley, I got away. Meet me at Starbucks on the corner of Main Street. I don't have much time before they find me again.”

“What's wrong?” Dean says urgently, hearing the slight slur in your voice.

“Drugged. Come get me,” you hang up, exhausted by the conversation.

You drag yourself to the coffee shop. You have no idea if caffeine will make the drug's effects worse or better but you damn well needed it right now.

After a few minutes you hear a screech and see your Cortina come to an abrupt halt outside. You wince, hoping he hasn't burnt the tyres out like that.

Dean and Sam come in and their faces fall. Well you must look like a complete state then. Dean hooks one arm around your waist and brings your arm around his neck whilst Sam supports your back. “Come on, Tabs, we got you.”

They place you in the backseat before getting in and starting to drive off.

“We didn't know what to think,” Sam says, turning around to face you from the passenger seat. “We saw your phone was in pieces and the bonnet was scratched.”

Your face screws up, “I scratched the bonnet? Ah bollocks.”

“Tabitha, the car is not really important right now,” Sam pushes gently. “What happened?”

“A Men of Letter's agent drugged me up and took me to Crowley in some hotel. Apparently I was part of an exchange where if Crowley got me then he'd call his demons out of the UK.”

Dean looks at you darkly in the mirror, “What does Crowley want with you?”

“What do you think?” you hiss. “He still wants me to spy on you only this time he's managed to find my brother and he's threatening to kill him.”

“You have a brother?” Sam looks at you quizzically.

“The second I started getting international missions I made sure to hide him away just in case stuff like this ever happened except I didn't really bargain on the King of Hell taking a personal interest.” You put your face in your hands and press until you see spots forming in your eyes. “Oh god, he's going to kill him.”

“We won't let that happen,” Sam reassures you, taking your hands away from your face.

“I don't think you can stop it,” you say sadly. “You've got much bigger things to think about than my family.”

“Hey,” Dean says loudly. “Family is important. We'll stop him Tabs, we'll stop Crowley. We'll shut his demon ass in the Gates of Hell along with all the others. Your brother will be fine.”

“I really want to believe that,” you murmur.

“We're not losing anyone else today,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

“Anyone else?” you ask.

Both boys sigh and Sam starts the story. He tells you how they went into Lucifer's crypt, how the Angel tablet was located there, how Castiel under the influence of another angel had tried to take it. A demon called Meg had allowed the brothers enough time to escape whilst Crowley killed her and that Castiel had broken free of his mind control and escaped with the artifact.

“Sounds like you had a wild time,” you laugh weakly.

“It's just a minor setback,” Dean said unconvincingly.

The rest of the ride is taken in heavy silence and you pull up back to the bunker. Just before you enter the door, you hear a voice echo throughout your mind. It calls your true name.

 

It's Crowley.

 

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  


 

Crowley reappears in the hotel room, wiping Meg's blood off of his blade and sees the splayed body of his researcher on the carpet and the door to the penthouse suite wide open. His anger begins surging.  
  
He walks over to the body and stamps on it forcefully, “Never leave a moron to do a easy job.”

She'd gotten away. He almost had her. He'd seen the fear in her eyes and knew he was close to breaking her. She would've done anything he'd asked her to. Anything....now that was a delicious thought.

He closes his eyes and lets your name flow off of him, searching for you. He will find you again and when he does, you'll be on your knees and begging for forgiveness.

 

 


	4. At a Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin tells you of the Second Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter for you guys!  
> Some canon divergence here.  
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> -TLP x

You all get back into the bunker and collapse into the chairs.

“One of these days we'll get a win,” Dean sighs, rubbing his face and blinking hard. “ I can't believe Cas left us in the wind like that.”

“Can you get a trace on where he is?” you ask.

“He ditched his cellphone,” Sam answered. “No way to track him.”

Dean shucks off his jacket and slams it down on the table before gripping the edge hard, “Goddamnit!”

“Dean-” Sam starts but you take his shoulder, gently shushing him. You've known the brothers long enough to know that when Dean needs to blow off you just let him. Telling him to calm down only made it worse.

Sam gives you a reproachful look and leaves, going back into his room. You walk to the kitchen and grab some whiskey and two glasses before coming back. You drop the tumbler on the table in front of Dean and pour him a generous amount before filling your own glass. Dean barely grunts as he knocks it back and you do the same, feeling the bitter sting of the liquid as it moves down your throat.

“Thanks,” Dean mutters after the longest time.

“Whiskey helps sometimes,” you murmur back.

“I can't do this,” Dean says, hanging his head. “I can't be worried about Sam, about Kevin, about you. It's driving me crazy.”

“Me? Why me?” you ask, bewildered.

“Because you almost got ganked by the Men of Letters when I told you I would protect you, because Crowley is showing some freaky interest in you and I don't like it Tabs, I don't like it one bit.”

You shrug, “Managed to get out of it. Clearly I have some dumb luck.”

Dean grits his jaw and you knew that was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah well luck runs out. I can't be everywhere at once trying to save you all.”

“So don't,” you say forcefully. “I'm not some little girl you need to baby. I've been doing this for a long time. If I go out, I go out.”

“So what, you wanna die?” Dean says bitterly.

“Of course not but I'm not going to live in a glass cage if that's what you think. That's not a life. I can see what your thought pattern is, Winchester, I'm not being locked in this bunker.”

You fold your arms defiantly and look at him, daring him to challenge you. He gives you a nasty expression for a time, trying to see if you'll back down but you stand your ground.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I don't like it and if you-”

“Yeah yeah, you can tell me 'I told you so'.”

Dean's hands go behind his head and he pulls at the back of his neck, trying to stretch the tension out. You walk over to him and give him a hug. He doesn't expect it at first and just stands there, unsure of what to do but eventually he returns it, head perched on yours and you feel him relax, the anger slowly ebbing away.

You hear footsteps and well, of course Sam would come in at this point....

“Uh...I'll come back later,” he says, shuffling awkwardly.

You break away and flush, “No no, it's not like that.”

“Sure,” Sam says, slightly smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Ahhh shut up,” Dean says, waving him off. “She's just making sure I don't wreck the bunker.”

“That's a pretty neat trick,” Sam laughs. “Wish you were around earlier, woulda saved us a whole lot on motel deposits.”

“Yeah well your hugs suck,” Dean smirks.

You feel like they're returning to their old selves and you start to feel the tension leave you. You're still exhausted from whatever Ketch gave you but you feel a little calmer now.

“If you don't mind guys, I'm gonna try and sleep this off,” you say.

“Sure thing princess,” Dean says.

You make to leave the room but Dean grabs your arm lightly. You turn back to him. “And thanks.” He continues. “Glad you're not dead.”

You nod, smiling at them both, “Me too.”

You go back to your room and collapse on the bed letting the weariness overtake you. You don't even have the energy to take your clothes off before sleep rides over you.

 

**

 

“Come on, sweetcheeks, we gotta hit the road,” Dean says banging on your door.

You awake with a start, hair splayed over your face and your t-shirt riding up your body. Attractive.

“Huh? Yeah? Gimme sec,” you slur.

“It's Kevin,” Dean tells you.

You're a little more alert now. “I'll be ready in five.”

You pull on a fresh top and tidy yourself up a bit, taming your hair into a ponytail and dousing your face in cold water to wake you up. Honestly you felt like you could have done with another few hours sleep.

You come out into the main room and the brothers are ready to go, jacket on and bags at the ready. You quickly throw on your coat and Sam fills you in on the way to the boat.

“We got another call from Kevin. He sounded frightened. Kept saying Crowley was talking to him, like he was in his head.”

Your face pales slightly and Sam notices.

“What?” he says concerned.

“Yesterday when we got back to the bunker, I could have sworn I heard Crowley say my name. Felt like he was right behind me when he said it.”

You notice Dean's grip on the steering wheel becomes tighter. “Why didn't you say anything?” he growls.

“Thought I was imagining it to be honest,” you say truthfully.

“No secrets,” Dean continues. “You hear anything like that again, you tell us, got it?”

“Yes sir, got it sir,” you say, doing a mock salute and rolling your eyes. Sam tries to stifle a laugh.

“Oh you think this is funny Sammy?” Dean hisses.

“Calm down. The priority is Kevin right now,” Sam reminds him.

The rest of the journey is spent in angry silence from Dean but general chit chat between you and Sam. Finally you get to the docks. When Dean knocks on the bulkhead, Kevin practically yanks it open.

If it were possible, this kid looks even worse than the last time you saw him. His eyes are almost bugging out of his head and he looks like the only thing keeping him going is coffee.

“Damn Kev, you slept since we were last here?!” Dean asks.

“No,” Kevin mutters quietly. “It's just, it's just too loud! He keeps talking!”

The boys bundle Kevin back into the mess of a home he has and sit him down.

“Talk to us,” Sam says, an earnest expression on his face.

“He's just here,” Kevin says, slamming the side of his head with his palm. “I can't get him to stop.”

Sam catches his arm and holds it still, “It's alright, we're here.”

Kevin looks wildly to the two men, “You don't believe me do you?”

“We believe you,” Dean murmurs. “She's heard the same thing.”

Kevin snaps his head towards you as if he's seeing you for the first time, “You have?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “He's been calling my name, my actual one, not my code name.”

“Wait, you didn't tell us that,” Sam says frowning.

“If he knows where my brother is, he's going to know my actual name,” you counter.

“How often?” Kevin interrupts, coming up alarmingly close to you.

“Just once, just after he'd had me captured. So far....I guess.”

You feel a little unnerved. Kevin looked like he was on the edge of an actual breakdown. You find your hand taking his and you squeeze it gently. Kevin looks down in surprise and back up to you before he seems to make a judgement, body relaxing with the decision.

“They have to stop him,” he whispers quietly.

“I'll stop him myself,” you growl back.

He looked into your eyes for the longest time before nodding resolutely and backing away, looking to the brothers.

“I've got the second trial decrypted.”

“Great,” Dean says, still a little wary. “Wanna fill us in?”

Kevin moves back to his chaos of paperwork, “The second trial is you have to free an innocent soul from Hell and send it to Heaven.”

“How are we gonna frickin' do that?” Dean moans.

“Well I don't know but find a way!” Kevin snaps back.

“Alright, alright,” Sam says, gesturing his arms. “Calm down, Kevin. We'll figure it out. Can you please get some rest? You look like you need it.”

“Maybe,” is all Kevin will commit to.

As you're leaving the bunker you turn back around to the kid, shivering with the adrenalin and caffeine. You pull out a sheet of sleeping pills from your satchel and toss them onto Kevin's desk. He looks at you, puzzled.

“For the nightmares,” you whisper.

“Thank you,” he whispers back.

 

**

 

You don't go immediately back. Sam has the bright idea of capturing a crossroads demon to find out how to get to Hell.

You stand there as Dean buries the necessary tools, hand clenched tightly around your revolver. It's not long before you have the demon bundled into the back of the Impala. You refuse to sit next to it so Sam takes the backseat, keeping a close watch.

Finally you get the demon into the chair that you were chained up to.

“Start talking,” Dean barks.

“I can't,” the demon babbles. “They'll kill me if I tell.”

“Oh boo hoo, we'll kill you if you don't.”

The demon keeps quiet and you get frustrated. You march to the shelves and grab some holy water, before flinging a few droplets at it. It screams horrifically and squirms in its bonds.

“No, no! Please!” it whimpers.

“Keep going,” Dean says, resolutely.

You look to Sam and he nods. Well if Sam agreed...

You launch another quarter of the bottle and there's some unpleasant hissing.

“I've got stocks of this, you know,” you say quietly. “I can do this all day and all night.”

“Wait! Wait!” the demon pleads. “I'll tell you. You need to find someone to smuggle you across the border. We have backdoors into Hell. There's a price though.”

“What's the price?” Sam asks.

“I can't say any more. You'll know what to do. Now, kill me. I don't want to be tortured by the other demons. Give me that at least.”

You nod, taking the serrated knife from Dean's belt loop and drive it up and between the demon's ribs. It tenses, form flashing before it slumps.

“I feel like I'm just as clueless as before,” Dean mutters.

“Not so much,” you say, wiping the blood on the demon's shirt. “Think of it like Charon in the underworld. Someone has to ferry the souls to different realms and in the legend of Orpheus, he booked passage on Charon's ship to the Underworld to rescue his love.”

Dean blinks. “I'm surrounded by nerds.”

“Well someone has to do the thinking,” you shoot back.

Sam chips in, “So we have to find like, the modern version of Charon?”

“Or a reaper,” you muse.

“That seems an easier plan,” Dean concurs.

You all draw up the plan of attack. The boys will go and approach a reaper, you'll stay and watch Kevin since you seem to have bonded with him slightly. You feel like Dean is deliberately sidelining you but at least he's not expecting you to stay here.

You make your way to the boat again after wishing the brother's luck with a bag of groceries tucked on your arm. You knock on the bulkhead.

“Kevin, it's Tabitha. Sam and Dean sent me over.”

The door jerks open.

“What did you give me before you left last time?” Kevin quizzes you.

“Sleeping tablets, why?” you ask, puzzled.

“Just checking, come in,” he says, waving you through. “Uh sorry, I'll clear off some space.”

He just shoves a bunch of fast food wrappers onto the floor to give you a chair to sit on.

“Oh boy, listen, you get a nap, I'll clean this place up and I'll make us some food yeah?”

“Home cooked food?” Kevin's eyes are actually saucers now as he is practically salivating. “I haven't had that in ages.”

You laugh and jiggle the grocery bag, “Yep, I got some stuff to make a cottage pie and to bake something sweet for later.”

Kevin looks like he's about to cry, “Thank you.”

“Hey, come on now, no waterworks,” you smile. “Get some sleep. You've earned it.”

He walks to his room and you find the pill packet, filling up a glass of water for him. He takes it gratefully and you practically tuck him into the bed. His eyes start to droop and you see him try to fight it. You brush his hair back from his head, soothing him as he finally falls asleep.

You set to work cleaning all of the rubbish, and there was a hell of a lot of it. Wrappers, drinks cartoons, cans, some caffeine tablets, you dump all of it into big bags and start polishing the table. You make a start on prepping the food, putting the mince, potatoes and vegetables in the pyrex dish and set it in on the side ready for when Kevin gets up. You also set up the brownie ingredients and shove the pan in the oven before sighing, you arms

There's a knock at the door and you go to it quickly, keen for Kevin not to stir. Dean greets you and takes a large sniff, “Something smells good. Woooo, looks a whole lot better in here too.”

“I work miracles,” you say, mock curtesying. “How did it go, where's Sam?”

“Well we found a reaper but Sam went alone. Said he has to do this thing by himself so I gotta chill here until he gets back. How's the kid?”

“Scared, hyped up on caffeine. I sent him to bed with a sleeping tablet, maybe he'll feel a little more rested soon.”

Dean nods, darkly, “I think he's gonna crack soon.”

“I think so too,” you murmur. “I'm trying to get some vegetables in him rather than all this junk food crap. Maybe it'll help him.”

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with a burger,” Dean says pointedly.

“I think Kevin's had enough of burgers,” you gesture to the bulging bin bags.

“Fair point,” Dean mutters.

You take the brownies out of the oven and have to swat Dean's hand away as he reaches for one, “Let them cool down first?”

“Aww come on, princess, they're best when they're warm!”

“Fine, but don't come crying to me when you burn your mouth off.”

He flashes you a stupid grin and grabs a corner piece before shoving it in his mouth. He starts huffing and blowing out and you raise your eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says, mouth full of crumbs.

Kevin eventually wakes up and you start cooking the cottage pie. You don't think you've ever seen someone so grateful before and he practically chokes trying to wolf it down.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “This is amazing.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Dean smiles. “I thought Brits couldn't cook?”

“I find that offensive,” you smirk.

For a time, you can almost pretend things are normal. Dean and Kevin fight over the gravy and who gets the last portion before you start bringing out the brownies and some ice cream you picked up and they start showering you with compliments.

“Please can you keep her around?” Kevin asks Dean and Dean chuckles, “I don't think we could get rid of her if we wanted to, which we don't.”

“Yeah yeah,” you wave off. “I'm not just a chef or a chambermaid, you know.”

You see Dean's eyes flicker and know immediately he's imagining a French maid.

“You can stop that,” you say, pointing your spoon at him.

“Guess you know me too well, sweetheart,” he grins.

Bellies full, Kevin stands up, yawning. “I think, I think I'm gonna have another nap if that's ok?”

“Sure kid,” Dean says warmly, “Take your time.”

Kevin walks around and gives you an tight hug that you didn't expect before going into his room and locking the door.

“I think you've done him some good,” Dean praises.

“Sometimes home comforts can do wonders,” you say, picking at the last of the ice cream.

“For you too?”

“I can never go back home, so....I have to keep my traditions alive I guess.”

Dean hums before placing a hand over yours, “There's a shop in Kansas that sells British food. Maybe I can show you there sometime.”

“I'd like that,” you smile.

Dean returns your expression and you look at each other for a while before the flapping of feathers puts you on edge and you grab for your gun, pointing it at a spot beyond Dean's head. Dean whirls around to see what you're looking at.

A stern looking female angel is stood there.

“Really?” she says, looking at your gun. “Put it down, I'm not here to talk to you. I need to speak with Dean.”

“I'm not moving.”

“You're insignificant to my plans,” she says matter of factly.

“Hey!” Dean calls, “Don't you dare say that to her!”

You reach to cock the trigger and before you can move forward, you are dropped to your feet back near the bunker.

You scramble, looking around wildly. Did she really just dismiss you like that?! She teleported you away?!

Your phone starts ringing and you pick it up.

“Tabs?!” Dean shouts.

“The bitch just dropped me back in Kansas!” you hiss.

“Oh lady,” you hear him say to the angel, “You just made a big mistake.”

The phone clicks off.

You growl, immensely annoyed and kick at the floor. You're sure life was just trying to roll you over at this point, taking you out of the fight and putting you back into safety. You were really pissed.

You go back into the bunker, loading up on every weapon you could pack onto your body before grabbing your Cortina.

 

**Tabitha: Dean, tell me where you are.**

 

You send the text and wait impatiently, tapping on the dash of the car.

 

**Dean: Maine. Here's the co-ordinates. Meet us there. Got Sam.**

 

You go as fast as the speed limit will allow you before the wilderness stops you from going any further. You set off on foot, winding your way through the trees, gun at the ready, scanning the forest before you.

You hear talking further up and come out into a clearing. Sam and Dean are waiting there and both brothers come over as soon as you appear.

“You ok?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, just a bruised ego. You guys?”

“I'm good.” Dean says succinctly.

“Sam?” you ask.

“I've got Bobby's soul with me. This trial is nearly done. Let's get this over with.”

You've heard about Bobby Singer from talking with the boys. The second father figure. It sure must have been hard seeing him in Hell.

Sam looks haggard but he pushes on, cutting his arm and you watch as the soul curls towards the sky but seems to hit a wall.

“What's wrong?” you ask.

“I don't know,” Sam says, bewildered. “It should be working. He should be going to Heaven.”

“He's not going anywhere,” a familiar gravelly voice says from behind you and you all spin around.

Crowley.

He stands there in his impeccable suit, smirking. “I believe that soul belongs to me.”

“You!” Dean roars.

“Ah ah ah, Squirrel, I wouldn't do anything rash...although it is you I'm talking to after all.”

“His soul doesn't belong to you,” you say grimly. “You stole it.”

His eyes fall on yours and they narrow, “I'm an opportunist, darling, and the King of Hell. I take what I want.”

You feel his gaze raking over your body and you shiver. He grins as he notices your reaction.

“May I also remind you, pet, that I still have that leverage so you'd best not get in my way.”

“Leverage this,” you say, shooting your gun at his chest. You thanked god you'd loaded your new holy water bullets. Dean had said they were a stupid idea but the second they hit Crowley's torso the casing exploded sending water pouring into the wound. It hissed violently and Crowley growled like an injured lion.

You quickly glance to the side and see Dean's humbled look. He lunges towards Crowley with the demon knife but he's thrown back against the tree line. Sam just readies his gun, not taking his eyes off of Crowley.

“Bad move, darling,” Crowley grunts.

He clicks his fingers and two demons appear with your brother, bound and bloodied. He looks like he's been tortured.

“Alistair!” you call and you see you brother's head look up to you, catching sight of you with his one good eye, the other swollen beyond recognition.

You run towards him but Crowley holds his hand out. “Ah ah, that's quite close enough.”

Alistair collapses to his knees, looking at you pleadingly. He calls your true name and your heart feels like it's going to tear in two.

“Let him go,” you say with a shaky voice.

“Not until you leave with your Scooby squad,” Crowley says firmly, clasping one hand over the other.

“LET HIM GO!” you roar, muscles tense.

Crowley's eyes glimmer as he knows he's gotten under your skin, that he's won.

“I'm going to offer you a deal,” he begins, eyebrow raised.

“Tabs, no! Don't listen to him!” Dean says, scrambling to his feet.

Sam goes to grab your shoulder but you violently shake him off.

“It's a very easy deal,” Crowley continues. “I'll let your brother go...if you'll do me a favour.”

“What kind of favour?” You ask, your gaze still fixed on your brother who's moaning with the effort of staying upright.

“Tabitha!” the boys cry, both flanking you. Dean takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Don't you dare listen to a word he says. We will find another way, I promise you but this is not it.”

“Tell you what,” Crowley says. “I'll even let you save the soul of Bobby Singer to sweeten the deal.”

You look to both brothers, bringing their heads in close to yours as you whisper in their ears, trying not to be overheard, “I have to do this. You need to finish this second trial. He still doesn't know what it is yet. He probably just thinks you're trying to save Bobby.”

“Are you serious right now?” Dean hisses in your ear. “He could have you do anything.”

“Dean's right,” Sam whispers. “It's never going to be something good. Just say no.”

“This is bigger than me and Alistair,” you say. “You need this win. I can get out of it. I'm smart remember?”

“Please,” Dean pleads. “We're not losing you.”

“After I do this, you need to get Sam away fast. If Crowley catches any hint this is something more than a simple rescue mission this is all for nothing. Promise me?”

You feel Sam and Dean tense, before they nod slowly.

You kiss both brothers on the cheek before pulling away and turning round.

“Release Bobby Singer first,” you demand.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at your ordering tone, “Fine.” He clicks his fingers and the soul ascends to Heaven. “Now am I to assume you're going to acquiesce to my little deal?”

“Yes.” You mutter. “Let Alistair go.”

Crowley chuckles in that low throaty laugh, “Not quite yet. This deal needs to be properly struck first.”

He walks up to you and takes your arm. You look back quickly to the boys and catch their changing faces as they try to spring into action but it's too late, you're flung into another destination.

You're on the docks near Kevin's boat and your heart starts hammering.

“Now, darling, where were we?”

“You were going to let Alistair go,” you pointedly remind him.

“Of course, of course. Didn't put up much of a fight, your brother. Clearly not cut from the same cloth.” He clicks his fingers again. “Done.”

“How do I know you've done it?” you ask.

Crowley rolls his eyes, “Mistrustful girl, aren't you? You may text Moose and Squirrel.”

You grab your phone, barely taking your eyes off of Crowley whilst punching in a text.

 

**Tabitha: Is Alistair safe?**

 

**Sam: We have him. Are you safe?**

 

**Tabitha: Still breathing**

 

**Sam: Where are you?**

 

“That's quite enough of that,” Crowley growls.

You reluctantly put the phone away.

“Now,” Crowley says, moving towards you. “To cement this deal.”

You back away as he comes up close but he hand snakes around your waist. “What are you doing?!” you ask, wide eyed.

“You make a bargain with the King of Hell, it's more than a simple handshake, pet. I do things the old fashioned way. Sealed with a kiss.”

You look at him horrified but he doesn't move any closer.

“You need to enter into this willingly, darling, or else I'll take back everything,” he reminds you.

You look into his eyes, swimming with victory and you steel yourself. You need to do this for the Winchesters, for Alistair, for everyone you've ever cared for. Slamming the Gates of Hell is more important than your disgust.

You crane your neck up and press your lips to his. You feel him smile slightly before gripping your neck and pulling you firmly against him and he deepens the kiss. You're overwhelmed by the passion and you briefly forget exactly who you're doing this with, just lost in the sensation of his predatory mouth.

He pulls away and you pant slightly, your heart rate raised. His eyes are practically sparkling as the smirk spreads across his face.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you enjoyed that, pet,” he purrs, reaching up a hand to stroke you face. You step back out of the way of his touch, flustered.

“Enough. Now tell me what this favour is and why we're here,” you hiss.

“Very demanding, aren't we?” he muses. “I suppose pleasure has to give way to business. We're here because I know Kevin Tran is on that boat and you're going to distract him enough for me to take him.”

Your mouth falls open, “What?!”

“You've made a deal with me now, sweetheart. Time to pay up, unless you want to break the terms.”

You can't believe what you're hearing. Are you really going to have to betray Kevin? He hasn't even decoded the third trial for you, how are you supposed to continue?

You sense Crowley knows he has you in a checkmate and your blood starts boiling as you think of a way to get out of it.

“Oh there's no way to back out,” Crowley says gently. “I know that's what you're thinking.”

You really don't know how you're going to do this but Crowley starts to give you a push towards the boat and you start walking, your mind racing as you go.

You do the secret knock and Kevin answers, eyes lighting up when he sees you. That somehow makes it feel so much worse.

“Tabitha!” he cries, pulling you in the bulkhead. “Are you going to cook for me again?”

You shift nervously and Kevin notices, his face falling, “What's wrong?”

You pull him into a bear hug, pressing your face to his cheek, “He's found us.”

You feel Kevin tense up immediately and you can even feel his heartbeart thumping in his chest.

“Is he going to take me?” Kevin whispers.

“Yes, but I'm not going to let him take you alone,” you promise, squeezing him tightly.

“Promise me,” he says in the smallest voice possible.

“I promise,” you murmur.

“What a touching scene,” Crowley hums.

You both turn to see him, hands in his trouser pockets. Kevin clings close to you.

“Took me a while to find you, Kevin. The Scooby gang weren't giving me a bean but your mother on the other hand...”

“Stop it,” you hiss. “Stop that right now.”

“May I remind you who you're speaking to?” Crowley says, straightening his tie.

“I don't give a rat's arse who I'm talking to, you speak to him like that again, you'll regret it,” you spit.

Annoyance crosses Crowley's face but it's quickly replaced by his shrewd inperceptible gaze.

“You've got quite a temper on you, darling. I'm sure I can do something about that some day. For now, I'll be taking the Prophet.”

All it takes is the blink of an eye and Kevin is gone from your arms and is struggling against Crowley's grip.

“No!” you cry.

Crowley falters, looking at you curiously, wondering what you were going to do. “Ahem, our deal?”

“I'm going with him,” you say firmly.

Crowley looks completely bewildered, “I'm sorry, I must have some brimstone in my ears. What did you say?”

“You take Kevin, I'm coming with him. I'm not leaving his side.”

A horrible smile crosses his face and he disappears with Kevin.

You rage, slamming the table in front of you, “GET BACK HERE CROWLEY!”

Nothing.

Silence.

“I'm going to drag you back here if I have to summon you myself!”

“No need to shout, darling, I'm here,” a voice sounds from right next to your ear.

You jump, glowering at him as he stands next to you.

“Just dropping the kids off first,” he says, nodding his head slightly. “Now you say you want to go down to Hell with him?”

“Yes,” you say through gritted teeth.

“I'm afraid I don't let people with your...ethics down there. What's going to convince me?”

In your anger you are not thinking clearly and the first thing that tumbles from your mouth is, “What do you want?”

You're pulled against him quicker than you can comprehend and you can smell the cologne and sulfur.

“I could ask a lot of you,” he purrs, running a thumb over your cheek but you don't cower away this time. “I could make you do anything, are you sure that's what you want?”

“Name your price,” you say, steadfastedly.

He grins, eyes flashing red briefly before returning to their dark hue. “Let's have a little repeat of the dock but....like you mean it this time.”

Your breathing is shallow as you contemplate his words. It's not a steep price for keeping Kevin safe. You know you'll be subjected to much worse down there trying to protect him so why not get the King of Hell on side so to speak. He's clearly taken a carnal interest in you.

You nod quietly and not a moment after he's on you, pulling you into a bruising kiss. _Like you mean it._ You try to imagine he's some other guy, your arm curling around his neck and pulling him closer to you. His stubble is rough against your skin but not unpleasant. His tongue snakes in and you let it, tasting the expensive whiskey. You can tell he's restraining himself from letting his hands run free over you. Who knew the King of Hell was so chivalrous?

You let him pull away and he lets out something between a purr and a growl. “Mmm, definitely should have asked for something more.”

“Your mistake,” you say, eyebrow raised.

He chuckles, arm still around your waist. “Well then, shall we?”

He lets go and holds out the crook of his arm for you to slide your hand through and you do so, going along with this little charade.

Your phone starts ringing and you see Crowley grimace. He puts his hand into your back jean pocket, taking the mobile before throwing it on the table.

“Can't have the Hardy Boys ruining the moment now, can we darling?”

You look back at the phone, Dean's caller ID flashing across the screen.

Crowley takes your chin in his hand and turns you to him, “Still your choice, Kevin awaits.”

You nod. “Let's go.”

With that, you both disappear from the boat.

 

 


	5. To Hell and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're stuck in Hell with Crowley. How on earth are you going to get Kevin out of here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! Had a bit of writer's block and got distracted with another fic.  
> I'll try and put another chapter out soon :)
> 
> -TLP x

Well this was not what you expected.

You thought there'd be more fire, more brimstone, more screaming souls of the damned. Instead, there's a queue....

Crowley looks down to your face and smirks, “This is the punishment line for the British, pet. They take a ticket, they queue but when they get to the front, there's nothing there. Then they have to start all over again. Genius really.”

You bite your tongue as he praises himself. Egotistical bastard.

“This way, darling,” he purrs, and your body is compressed as he teleports you into a line of cells.

Several people seem to be milling around inside their prisons, hollowed eyed and listless. Your eyes fall onto one cage in particular.

“Kevin!” you cry, breaking away from Crowley and reaching for him through the bars.

“Tabitha?” he murmurs. “Please tell me that's you?”

“It's really me,” you soothe him, taking his hands and rubbing them firmly. You pull him towards the bars and whisper in his ear, “I promised you, didn't I? I'm going to find a way to get you out.”

You're yanked backwards as a demon hisses, “No touching the prisoners!”

You don't even think about it as you drive your knee up into its stomach and fling it against the opposite wall before driving an angel blade into its neck. It squeals in a haze of flashes before it drops to the floor.

Oh.

You didn't even consider where you were for that second.

You turn to Crowley who just looks impassively at you before saying, “I was going to kill him anyway. He was rather rude.”

You let out a breath that might be a faint laugh but you're not sure. You feel a sudden rush and your hand rises up as the weight is gone from your grip. You look down and then look back to him as he wiggles the angel blade in front of you.

“I think I'll be taking this, though, pet. As much as your rebelliousness is amusing, I'd like a bit of insurance.”

You look back to Kevin and he seems terrified. You try to give him a soft smile but it doesn't seem to help.

“Now, you want to protect the dear little Prophet?” Crowley says, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. He holds out his hand, “Then walk with me.”

“I'll be back for you,” you tell the shivering boy in the cell and your heart slightly breaks as he just looks at you mournfully before slinking back into the shadows.

You take Crowley's hand and he starts walking you further down the line of cells. You don't dare to look into them, not wanting to see the tortured, tormented faces within. Finally he stops just outside of a set of double doors.

“I'm about to escort you into the throne room so we can talk a little further on your...grand plan to escape with my pet Prophet, but...I can't have you just walking in as free as a bird. It's not good for appearances you see.”

He clicks his fingers and your hands are yanked behind your back and held there by some unseen force.

“Apologies,” he smirks. “Well...not really.”

“You're enjoying this a lot aren't you?” you say.

He chuckles, the sound low and raspy, “Guilty. Now be a good girl and play along.”

He waves his hand and the doors open. He gives you a gentle push in the centre of your back and you start walking in. Demons in crisp business suits line the path to the throne and they all bow in fearful reverence as Crowley walks by and ascends the steps, sitting with a flourish. He motions for you to stop and you stand there, hands bound with a face like thunder. You're incredibly pissed off that he's humiliating you this way.

“Kneel”, he growls, the glimmer of red creeping across his irises.

“Excuse me?!” you say bewildered.

“You're in the presence of the King of Hell, little hunter. Kneel.”

Oh no way! You were done with these theatrics. “Get stuffed,” you hiss.

You feel an immense pressure bearing down on your shoulders and you fight to keep yourself upright but the force is too much and your knees buckle sending you falling to the floor. You're lucky you don't pitch forward and land on your face.

“See, no matter what country these hunters come from, they all lack the proper respect and manners,” Crowley muses to his fawning minions and they jeer at you. “I think I need to teach this one exactly who she's dealing with, don't you?”

More jeers and you struggle violently against your invisible bonds.

“Leave us,” Crowley barks and the demons leave the room until there's just you and the King of Hell.

He gets off his ostentatious throne and walks to you before placing a hand under your chin and pulling your face up to look at him.

“Are you going to let me get up now that you've had your little amateur dramatics?” you say.

“Mmm, it would be a shame, pet. You do look rather good on your knees before me,” he purrs.

You groan internally. You think you liked it better when he was just trying to kill you rather than making sexual passes at you.

He chuckles at your subtle eye roll and you hear a click. At once, your hands flop to your side and you're no longer bowed under the great pressure. You stand up, stretching yourself out slightly.

“I believe we had a matter to discuss,” you start. You figured he'd respond well to a more business like approach.

“The little matter of a certain prophet, yes darling,” he says, as he seems to produce a whiskey tumbler out of nowhere.

“What will it take for you to release him,” you ask bluntly, folding your arms.

"Oh, no foreplay? Straight into it?” he chuckles, taking a long sip of his drink. “Well since you are a repeat customer then maybe we can come to some arrangement that'll benefit us both.”

You're hoping that it'll be something reasonable, something not degrading but you're willing to do whatever it takes to get Kevin back to Sam and Dean, even if you have to stay here. It was for the greater good.

“What kind of arrangement?” you say tentatively.

“Oh nothing quite like that darling,” he says, catching your look. “I prefer a willing party. I'm looking to bank another favour.”

“Did you orchestrate all this so I'd owe you another debt?” you ask, suspiciously. “Why would you give Kevin up so easily after making me go through all that with my brother?”

“I have my reasons, love,” Crowley says, eyes simmering whilst he takes another sip. “I'll allow Kevin Tran to leave Hell providing you do your part when called. Do we have a deal?”

Your gut is screaming that this was completely wrong. This seems far too easy considering Crowley has Kevin right where he wants him. Was he going to make you spy on Sam and Dean? Was he going to make you give up information about the Trials? You had the vaguest feeling that the business on the dock was just a preamble to warm you up to the true intent Crowley had.

“Or I could just leave you both here,” Crowley mused, breaking your train of thought. “You were quite adamant to visit.”

That damned smirk. You wanted to wipe it from his smug face.

You snatch the whiskey tumbler from his hand and swirl it once before downing the contents. He looks briefly surprised, aggrieved and intrigued all at once before he manages to regain his composure.

“You know, love, fine whiskey like that is not something to drink like an American fratboy,” he chides.

“Said like a person who can't hold their liqueur,” you retort, feeling the warmth from the alcohol flood your chest. In truth, you were just trying to steady your nerves before you made your decision.

“I don't think you really want to start that game with me, pet,” he says, his voice start to rumble as it drops an octave.

“I'm going to add a stipulation to the deal,” you say firmly. “You cannot ask me to kill someone, you cannot ask me to tell you information and you cannot ask me to switch sides so to speak.”

Crowley scowls slightly, “You're no fun.”

“Do we have a deal or not?” you press, arms folded, trying to assert a little dominance over the situation.

Crowley considers you for a moment and you can see the cogs of his mind whirring away as he processes the terms.

“Agreed.”

He takes another whiskey tumbler and fills it and refills yours before clinking the glasses together, “To our new venture, cheers.”

You chug the liquid back, desperate to get this over with. You know exactly what is coming. He moves back to the throne and sits on it before beckoning you over and resting his glass on the arm. “Over here, pet.”

Oh god, did he really want to do this on his throne? This demon had a serious ego trip.

You move over so you're standing in front of him and before you can bend down to get this damned kiss over with, his hands grab your thighs and you're yanked forward until you're straddling him. Your hands fly out to the back of the chair to stop you from falling completely onto him. This was far too close. You tense up slightly but he doesn't push any further. He just simply rests his hands on your thighs, looking up at you with those smug eyes, waiting.

You steel yourself, take another deep breath and bend your head down. You're not sure if it's the alcohol or the fact that this is the third time you'd had to kiss the King of Hell but it seems easier, seems much more simple to do this time. Your lips already know his by now. His hand comes around your waist pulling you closer to him and he practically purrs into your mouth as your body slides forward across his lap.

For a brief instant, you felt that familiar warmth, that slight knot lower down in your core. Oh god, were you enjoying this now? Your own body was betraying you.

You pull back, suddenly afraid of your own reactions and he allows it but not before that crooked grin lights up his face.

“You know, darling, your words say one thing but your actions are telling me something different. Maybe you enjoy making deals with me just so you can do this.”

You flush, embarrassed and he chuckles, hands deftly massaging at your back.

“Kevin?” you manage to choke out, trying not to bely the fact your heart was going a hundred miles an hour.

Click.

“Kevin Tran is no longer in Hell. And now for you. As much as I've loved our little dalliance here, I'll be sending you back too so you'll be ready for when my favour comes.”

You relax slightly. Well this was better than what you'd hoped for at least. You thought you'd be stuck in here until Sam and Dean found a way to jailbreak you.

Crowley raises his fingers, ready to snap them but before he does, his hand travels up your back to your neck and pulls you down so he can whisper into your ear, “Some day soon you'll back come to me pet and I'll have you, I'll have you on this very throne. Don't pretend you won't enjoy that. For now....ta ta.”

Click.

You drop with a thud to the ground outside of the bunker, your knees scraping against the gravel. You shiver, grateful to be out of there, out from under his gaze and his words that made you want to crawl into yourself.

You see the Impala is parked up and your heart lifts. They were home. You couldn't wait to tell them the good news.

You practically flew in through the door and skipped down most of the stairs before stopping in the main room, panting wildly. Dean flies around the corner, his gun raised as he looks for the source of the sound and then his eyes fall on you and they go wide.

“Tabs?!” he cries.

You just nod your head, trying to get your breath back.

“Sammy?!” Dean shouts.

Sam comes barrelling in, eyes searching for danger.

“Tabitha?!” he asks.

They both rush over and hug you tightly and you feel your heart rate settle.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you look like crap,” Dean says, pulling back.

“No offence taken,” you shoot back. “You try looking like a Vogue model when you've been in Hell.”

“Hell?” Sam questions.

“I'll explain in a moment, is Alistair safe?” you ask, looking around.

“Yeah, we sent him to a hunter stronghold. It's warded against everything, don't worry. Jodie's looking after him.”

“Good, thank you. Thank you so much for taking care of him,” you say gratefully. “Is Kevin back yet?

“Kevin?” Dean says, eyebrow raised. “Tabs, Kevin has been missing for days.”

“No, he should be here,” you say firmly. “And what do you mean days? I've only been gone a few hours?”

“It's Sunday,” Sam says gently.

“What?!”

“What's going on, Tabitha?” Sam asks you, brow furrowing. “Do you know where Kevin is?”

“The favour Crowley wanted, he wanted me to help him kidnap Kevin but I demanded he take me too so I could protect him,” you babble, shushing the boys as they tried to interrupt. “I made another deal to get him out of there and Crowley said it was done. So where is he?”

“He's not here,” Sam says quietly.

“What exactly was the deal you made?” Dean pressed.

“That Kevin would be released from Hell and....” your words trailed off as you realised. Crowley said he'd release him from Hell, not that he'd release him back to you or the Winchesters. He'd completely tricked you into assuming the terms were in your favour.

“Arsehole!” you hiss. “Bloody arsehole!”

“What's wrong?” Dean says, worried.

“He legalesed me. He let me think I was getting Kevin back to us when really all he promised me was that he'd be released from Hell. I messed up. I really messed up,” you say, bawling your fists up and pressing them against your face.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, jaw set.

“At least he's alive, Dean,” Sam says grimly.

“If I may?” a voice pipes up and you turn around to see a short, stocky man with curly hair peering at you curiously.

“Erm...who are you?” you ask bewildered.

He holds out a hand as he comes over and you shake it warily, “Metatron, Scribe of the Lord. I couldn't help but overhear your little predicament.”

“Scribe of the...” You turn back to the boys and they look at you as if to say 'go with it'.

“Let's say I help you, as gesture of good will, so you can see that I'm trustworthy,” the man smiles and there's a blinding flash of white light. You have to cover your eyes as it sears through your retinas until there's someone bundled onto the table, motionless.

“Kevin!” you cry and rush to him, cradling his head.

“Now you can see I have no ill intent,” Metatron says with a gracious hand gesture. “I need you to realise something Dean. There'll come a point where these Trials have a consequence and that consequence will have a great price attached. Are you truly ready to sacrifice everything to close the Gates of Hell?”

“You're damn straight I am,” Dean says resolutely. “Whatever it takes.”

“I hope you keep your resolve to the end,” Metatron says mysteriously.

Kevin starts to stir in your arms and you look down to him, smiling affectionately, “Hey you.”

“Tabitha?” he asks, gripping the front of your shirt as if he thought you were a figment of his imagination.

“Yeah I'm here. I told you I'd get you out.”

“Thank you,” he mutters before sitting upright and holding something out to the brothers. It's the other half of the demon tablet.

“Is that-” Sam starts.

“Yeah, yeah it is. Crowley may have tricked Tabitha but I don't think he was counting on me taking this.”

“Finally, some good news,” Dean smiles.

“And I know what the third trial is,” Kevin says, proudly. “You have to cure a demon.”

“Cure a demon?” Dean's smile fades. “How is that even possible?”

“It's possible,” Metatron says, that eerie smile on his face. “But finding out how is up to you.”

He disappears.

“I really think I've had enough of angels and demons at this point,” you sigh wearily.

“Same, princess, same,” Dean murmurs.

“I'm just really glad everyone's safe,” Sam says.

“Yeah, come on guys, bring it in,” Dean says gesturing for everyone to come close. You all hug each other tightly.

Two trials down, one to go.

You hoped to god you'll complete the final one before Crowley can call in his favour.

 

**

 

Crowley ran his fingers over the lip of the tumbler you'd drank from, seeing the ghost of the imprint you'd left behind.

He'd been badly scorched when that meddling angel had gotten involved and he was furious, more furious than he'd ever been. He'd been enjoying the sense of your anger as you worked out exactly how he'd manage to trick you. It was delicious.

But....you still owed him one favour. It was not a complete loss. He could still disrupt the trials.

He leaned back in his throne, still idly playing with the glass.

Despite everything, despite the loss of Kevin Tran and the sore defeat he'd just undertaken, he wasn't thinking of any of that. He was thinking of the way your heartbeat had picked up as you sealed your deal, the way you moved slightly against him unconsciously, the way your breath hitched as he told you what he wanted to do to you. It was intoxicating. He loved having that power over you.

 

_I'll call in that favour soon, darling, be ready._

 

 


	6. Sealed with a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the last trial. Curing a demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there!  
> Finally got a new chapter to drop down based on the end of Season 8.  
> Expect some angst and some fluff :)
> 
> \- TLP x

Dean knocks on your door as you lie on your bed, reading lore. You look up and catch his worried expression.

“You ok?” you ask.

“Can I..can I talk to you?” he says, a little distracted.

“Sure.” You sit up and tap the side of the bed. He sits down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“Now, tell me, honestly, are you alright?” he says, putting a hand on your knee. “I know you told Sam that you're good but I've seen that look. That's a look like your head is outta the game.”

You look down, closing your book and sliding it away before turning back, “It's Crowley.”

“Did he...did he do something to you?” You see Dean's restrained anger as he searches your face.

“Not in that way,” you say quickly. “I'm just pissed off that he manipulated me.”

Dean relaxes a little and sits back a touch, “Yeah, you're not the first he's done that too, sweetheart, and you won't be the last.”

“I'm just so angry with myself,” you hiss. “If Metatron hadn't been around, Kevin would've been stuck and that would've been on me.”

Dean wraps his arms around you, “No, don't do that. No torturing yourself ok? That's a what if, not a what happened. Kevin's safe. We're two trials down and we're almost at the finish line. You with us?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his shirt. “Yeah I'm with you.”

“Good, because god knows we're gonna need you Tabs. I don't know if I'm gonna be strong enough for Sammy.”

“Shut up,” you huff. “You survived together long before I showed up.”

He ruffles your hair and snorts derisively, “If you only knew how many times Sam and I have died.”

“I can guess,” you smirk, pulling away.

“So here's the state of play we're gonna try,” Dean begins. “The demon that we're gonna cure, we're gonna cure Crowley because that asshole deserves some bad voodoo coming his way.”

“You've got my attention,” you say, crossing your legs on the bed.

“We're gonna call him up here to make a deal saying that Sam will abandon the trials. Then we kidnap him and do that thing that Sam found.”

“You mean the human blood injections?” you say.

“Yeah, right, those. Once he's cured, we'll be able to shut the gates of Hell and then we'll kill that goddamn son of a bitch.”

“You're gonna kill Crowley after you cure him?” you ask, a little surprised.

“After all the crap he's pulled? He doesn't deserve a second chance,” Dean says gruffly.

Your mind wanders back, wanders to the way Crowley pulled you onto that throne so confidently. You haven't been able to stop dreaming about it since you got back. You shiver and try to put it out it out of your head.

“You're right,” you say resolutely. “He needs to go.”

“Good to see we're on the same page. Now come on, princess. We have some Sam fine tooth planning to listen to,” he says, standing up and holding his hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

You both walk out into the main room. Sam is already looking at his laptop, eating some kind of protein powder yoghurt mess with a bunch of fruit.

“Oh geez, Sammy, that's not a breakfast,” Dean says, wrinkling his nose.

Sam drops his spoon huffily and reaches down next to him to pull two containers out a plastic bag and shoves them towards the both of you.

“There's your carbs and sugar, Dean with added heart failure on top and there's your high cholesterol Tabitha,” Sam says pointedly.

You both open the containers to see Dean has pancakes with syrup and bacon and you have an egg and bacon sandwich. You'll say this for Sam, at least he remembers what you like.

“So, you tell her the strategy?” Sam asks Dean.

“Yep, she's all caught up and on board.”

“Great,” Sam says closing the laptop. “Are you ok with facing Crowley again?”

You nod, your mouth full of food before swallowing, “Oh yeah, I have a score to settle there.”

“Alright, just don't let him get to you, ok? He's gonna say a lot of things to try and rile you up.”

“I'll be fine guys, I promise,” you say, knowing you won't be fine at all.

Dean's phone begins ringing, “Huh, it's Jodie.”

“Jodie?” your mind immediately goes to your brother and you hope that nothing is wrong.

You see Dean's face go from mild surprise to fury and he spits out a word, “Crowley?!”

Both you and Sam instantly tense up.

“Listen here, you son of a bitch, you let her go. You hear me?!” Dean roars into the phone. “Fine....fine! We'll be there!” He angrily stabs at the screen terminating the call.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asks, getting up from his chair.

“He's hexed Jodie. If we don't show up with the tablet, he's gonna kill her.”

“That's your opportunity,” you say earnestly. “You don't need to pretend like you have a deal. Just make sure it looks like he's won and he won't suspect a damned thing. His ego is too huge to think you might be tricking him.”

“Right!” Dean exclaims, his eyes lighting up. “This is it, Sammy! It's a detour sure but it gets us what we want.”

“Come on, let's go,” you say, grabbing your coat.

You all pile into the Impala, nerves jangling as you set off to Bobby's old yard, Dean's idea of course. You're a mix of apprehensive and hyped up. This was really happening. You were going to imprison the King of Hell and make him human. You couldn't wait to see that smug grin wiped off of his face when he realised what was happening. The thought of that was just too good. All the times he had humiliated you, forced you into impossible decisions, made sexual remarks about you. Finally it was going to have consequences.

You pull up into the Bobby's old yard and get out. Everyone is packing secret weapons on their person and they pat them nervously before Dean calls Crowley's number.

“You rang?” that familiar drawl says. You look behind you and see Crowley, still impeccably dressed and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Crowley,” Sam says, curtly.

“Hello boys,” he says smirking before his eyes fall on you. “Hello darling. Couldn't keep away from me?”

“Shut up,” you hiss.

“Is that any way to talk to the King of Hell? I thought we were getting along so nicely, pet? I mean after the third kiss a man has to wonder where he stands.”

“She said shut up!” Dean roared.

“Did I hit a nerve, dear Dean?” Crowley chuckled. “Does it vex you knowing I got to taste her before you did? She is quite exquisite.”

You feel the heat creeping into your face and you're sure you must have turned bright red. “You want this tablet or not?” you say, trying to salvage the situation before Dean does something stupid.

“Ah yes, quite,” Crowley says with a flick of the wrist. “Now, the terms. You have to give me the tablet and abandon these trials. In return, I will let Sheriff Jodie Mills live.”

“No dice,” you spit. “You'll let Jodie live _and_ return her to us.”

“Still smarting over that one are we?” Crowley laughs. “Clever girl. Fine, I'll return the sheriff to you.”

Sam's hand comes on your shoulder, trying to soothe you before you really lose your temper. Frankly it doesn't do anything other than make you tenser.

Crowley produces a scroll, his contract and unravels it out before you. You think it must be a joke but it keeps rolling and rolling out.

“The hell Crowley?!” Dean exclaims.

“Just some insurance,” Crowley smirks.

“How many clauses are in there?” Sam asks incredulously.

Dean walks up to the demon, holding his hand out to take the contract and Crowley outstretches his arm, ready to give it. In a flash, Dean jams the anti-demon handcuffs onto Crowley's wrist and then quickly onto the other one.

“What in the hell do you morons think you're doing?!” Crowley snarls.

“Insurance,” Sam grins.

You all bundle him into the back of the Impala. It gives you great pleasure to rumple his suit as you shove him in unceremoniously. You get into the car on the other side and the boys start driving.

“As much as I love some bondage, darling, this scenario is not really what I had in mind. In fact, in my mind, you were in this position,” Crowley says lasciviously.

“Can I punch him?” you ask the brothers, feeling your fist curl.

“Sure thing, sweetheart, just don't kill him,” Dean mutters his approval.

“Well I really think-” Crowley starts but you sock him straight in the face. “BLOODY OW.”

“You want another? No? Then be quiet,” you hiss, turning back to stare out of the front of the car. Sam and Dean are sniggering in the front, the tension bubble having deflated slightly.

Crowley doesn't speak for the rest of the car journey as you drive to an abandoned church. The ruined structure looms into view and you feel the excitement of what you're about to do build in your chest. As you're unclipping your seat belt and the boys are getting out of the Impala, Crowley leans over to you, whispering in your ear.

“I know you enjoyed that, pet. You think killing me will get me out of your head? I'm always going to be there. That little what if. What if you let the King of Hell seduce you? Would you enjoy it? Would it be the best fuck you've ever had?”

Your core tenses and you hurriedly scramble out of the car, eager to be away from him. Why the hell was he affecting you this much? With several mere sentences you went from hating him to thinking about what exactly was underneath that suit. He'd got to you in a very bad way.

The brothers drag him into the chair in the middle of a devil's trap and strap him to it. He protests loudly but you all ignore him.

“So what now,” Dean says.

“Well for me to cure him, my blood has to be pure, so I guess I have to confess any sins right?”

“Seems like the confession booth is as good a place as any,” you say, scanning the room and seeing the small wooden structure.

The brothers leave you whilst they enter the booth and you hear a soft 'ahem' to your left.

Crowley.

“Whilst those two are pouring their little hearts out, let's have a tête a tête just you and me, darling,” Crowley smirks. “You can't hide the fact from me that your heartbeart picked up when I whispered in your ear.”

“I'm sure you just mixed it up with the excitement of what we're going to do to you,” you say sarcastically.

“And I'm sure there are many things you'd like to do to me,” Crowley says, gruffly.

That voice cuts right through you and he knows it because the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“So that favour you owe...” he begins.

“No,” you cut him off. “Not letting you out.”

“You agreed to a deal, pet,” he says pointedly. “If you renege, I'm sure Juliet would love to take a bite out of your soul.”

“It'd be worth it.”

He grimaces but before he can respond, Sam and Dean come back into the main room. They look shaken, like they've seriously let a lot of home truths come to light.

“Everything ok?” you ask.

“Yeah, time to get this show on the road,” Sam says with a sad smile.

You hear a sudden flap of wings and feel a breeze run across your skin.

“Dean,” the deadpan voice of Castiel growls. “I need your help.”

“Now?!” Dean cries, whirling round.

“Yes, now. It's about the Angel tablet.”

Dean looks back to his brother, torn about what to do. You walk over to him and put your hands on his shoulders.

“Go, I'll look after Sam. I promise,” you say earnestly.

“Just be safe, the both of you,” he grunts, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. “This is nearly over.”

He leaves with Castiel and you turn back to Sam and Crowley.

Wow....Crowley is wearing an expression of pure rage. Was that because of Dean? He doesn't get to wear it long as Sam jams a syringe into his neck.

“For hell's sake, Moose!” he shouts, hissing through his teeth.

Sam's arm starts to glow. You're concerned and make towards him but he shoos you back.

“I'm good, it's fine,” he smiles weakly.

“That is not fine,” you counter. “That is so far from fine.”

“Tabitha, stop worrying.”

“Yes, Tabitha, Moose can take care of himself,” Crowley purrs.

“Nobody asked you, shut up,” you spit.

“I do like your dirty talk, darling,” the demon chuckles.

You see Sam trying to restrain himself and you take his arm and lead him to sit in a pew away from the King of Hell.

“You bearing up?” you ask.

“Yeah, you?” he replies.

“I wanna punch him so badly,” you growl.

“After,” Sam smiles. “Just let me finish this first.”

Time goes by and it's time for the second dosage. You stay in the pew, not wanting to go near Crowley. Sam fills up another syringe and stabs the King of Hell in the neck again but Crowley bites down on Sam's arm as he does so. You stand up immediately, racing towards Sam as he cradles his wound.

“You'd better get the med kit,” you say, looking over it. “That's gonna need antiseptic.”

He leaves towards the Impala and you take the opportunity to grab Crowley by the throat.

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!” you hiss.

“I have my reasons,” comes the dour response.

You squeeze hard, feeling the breath catch in his throat, “You do that again and I'll make your existence after this trial a living nightmare.”

“Is that a promise?” he chuckles raspily.

You drive your fist into his stomach causing him to wheeze before walking towards the back of the church. You find Sam wrapping his arm up in bandages.

“That arsehole,” you growl, seeing the damage Crowley did.

“It's ok, Tabitha, he only needs a few more doses and he'll get what he deserves then,” Sam says resolutely.

You both nod before walking back towards the church. The ground begins to shake and it throws you off balance. You grab onto the door frame trying to steady yourself. The floor beneath you splits and the crack runs all the way up to the altar, splitting the devil's trap in two. No! A female appears out of nowhere and you grab your knife, ready for a fight. She takes one look at you and scoffs before flicking her hand and both you and Sam are launched out of the church onto the soil outside.

“Sam!” you cry but he just rushes to the Impala and grabs holy oil.

“Come on!” he shouts, taking your hand and you both run back.

Crowley appears to be making some sort of bargain with the woman, one in which she doesn't seem to be giving him an inch. Sam launches the holy oil at her, covering her completely and she shrieks in frustration. You click your lighter on and throw it. Instantly she goes up like a torch and you see the smoke rush away from the body.

“Who was that?!” you demand of Crowley.

“I see you've now had the pleasure of Abbadon,” he laughs.

You stop. That laugh, it wasn't the usual laugh Crowley had, the one filled with sarcasm and mirth. It was light, lilted even. What the hell was going on? Was this actually working?

“Are you....feeling ok?” Sam asked, catching the same cues you did.

“Never better, Sam,” Crowley smiles.

Ok, that was officially odd. He _never_ called Sam by his actual name. There was always some veiled insult like 'Moose' or 'Samantha'. You walk around to face him properly and he gives you an affectionate smile.

“You are beautiful, do you know that?” he muses.

You look up at Sam in complete shock and he just shrugs back at you.

“You know, Sam, I feel like we've bonded throughout our many years together. We're like...Hanna and Marnie from Girls. Right?” Crowley continues.

“What makes you think we could ever bond,” Sam asks, his eyebrows raised. “You're a demon.”

“And does that mean I'm incapable of friendships?” Crowley asked. “Incapable of relationships?”

You and Sam both give each other weirded out glances.

“I deserve to be loved!” Crowley roars, tears forming in his eyes. He looks right at you and you take a step back, suddenly overwhelmed.

Sam gets another syringe and loads it before plunging it into Crowley's neck again in an attempt to shut him up.

“Please, Sam,” Crowley begs, the tears spilling down his cheeks. “I need to confess my sins...so many sins....”

“Like what?” Sam says flatly.

“Tabitha,” he says softly. “I manipulated her in so many ways, threatened her, threatened her brother, all because I was lying to myself, trying to bury my emotions.”

He gives you a sad glance before continuing, “Beneath this gruff exterior, pet, you intrigued me. I wanted to know you more but this is the only way I knew how. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're fierce, I wanted all of that for myself.” He hangs his head. “I'm sorry. You are the latest sin in a long line of many.”

You don't know how to process this. Was this demon telling you he had deep feelings for you? It felt like an abusive trick to try and get you to lower your guard but as you continue to study him you see the genuine remorse in his face. Oh god! He was telling the truth!

He moves his neck to the side, baring the flesh and says, “Just do it.”

Sam gives you a strange looking before drawing another load of blood out ready.

There's a rush of wings again and you turn round to see Dean, wide eyed and scared.

“Sammy stop!” he cries.

“What's going on?” you ask, confused.

“Don't finish the trials!” Dean shouts. “When you complete them, it'll kill you. The consequence Metatron told you about, it's your death.”

“And is that so bad, Dean?” Sam asks, hand hovering over Crowley's neck.

“Excuse me?!” Dean exclaims.

“I've let you down Dean, so many times and this would just be another thing to add to the list. I can't do it. I mean you never confide in me any more, it's always someone else, Castiel or Benny or Tabitha. I need to do this. I need my life to be worth something!” Sam cries.

"Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you!" Dean says earnestly.

The brothers stare at each other for a while and you back away from them, not knowing what to do. Sam and Dean move to hug each other and you hear Sam whisper in a small voice, “It's consuming me, Dean. This energy, I don't know how to stop it.”

“Just let it go, man,” Dean says.

The glow inside Sam seems to dissipate and you think he might actually be ok until he starts screaming in pain.

“Get him to the Impala!” you shout and Dean looks at you terrified before his body starts to obey your order. He hoists Sam on his shoulders and carries him out.

“Shit,” you mutter.

You see flashes of light in the sky and hear winds buffeting the old wood of the church. What was going on? Whatever it was, you know these trials were over. Although you're angry you put in so much work for nothing, it wasn't worth Sam sacrificing himself. Oh well, better get Crowley put away and see what you can do to help. You doubt Sam's pain is a sign of anything good.

You lean down and unwrap the lengths of rope binding the King of Hell to the chair and yank him up to a standing position. In a flash, he loops the handcuffs over your head and pulls you to him.

“I meant every word,” he says with a serious face. He lets his hands stroke your cheek gently before sighing your true name.

You don't know what to do. This demon, this usually impeccable demon is baring himself to you. How do you respond to that? If he was just throwing more sexual innuendos at you, you could handle it but this....

His mouth finds yours in a searing kiss, not a kiss laden with desire, a kiss laden with passion. He pulls back slightly, lips reddened and eyes darkened as he searches your face for some kind of response.

 

Oh hell.

 

You lean forward reciprocating, your lips skating delicately over his, feeling his stubble tickle your face gently.

“Tabs!” Dean's urgent voice carries through to you.

You break away and realise what you're actually doing. Goddamnit, pull yourself together! You were just kissing the King of Hell. AGAIN.

“Darling,” Crowley purrs, the word more affectionate than usual.

You duck out underneath his arms and punch him in the temple, knocking him out cold. You'd figure out what to do later. For now, the Winchesters needed you.

You ran outside to see Dean clutching Sam as he lay on the ground.

“Is he ok?!” you shout.

“No,” Dean says in a shaky voice. “And look.”

You follow his finger and see the shooting stars in the sky. “What is that?”

“The angels. The angels are falling.”

You all look on at the streaks of fire as they hurtle through the inky blackness in somber silence.

 


	7. Just Can't Stay Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angels have fallen and Sam is dying. Can you and Dean save him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a monster chapter for you guys!
> 
> As always, apologies for my poor proofreading sometimes!
> 
> Hope you enjoy some more of Crowley being Crowley!
> 
> \- TLP x

The silence is broken by Sam's cries of pain and both you and Dean panic, trying to help him through the wave.

“What do we do?!” Dean shouts. “I don't know what to do, Tabs!”

“Get him in the car!” you bark. “We've gotta find a hospital!”

“What about Crowley?” Dean asks. “I'm not letting that son of a bitch escape!”

“Just get Sam in the car, I'll get Crowley,” you say, pushing Dean to his feet before you pelt back into the church.

Crowley was still unconscious on the floor and put your arms underneath his, dragging him out. Christ, he was heavier than he looked. You have to practically bend backwards to keep the momentum going. You take small pride in knowing that you were dirtying his suit in the action.

When you get to the Impala, Dean has already lain Sam down in the back seat and he comes over to you.

“Open the trunk,” you growl with the exertion.

Dean complies and he helps you hoist Crowley's prone body into the little space. You both slam the lid down together.

“Come on,” you say, getting into the passenger seat. “Drive.”

Dean gets in and floors the accelerator whilst you whip your phone out trying to find a hospital nearby. You direct him as he frantically swerves and dodges around other cars.

“Slow down, Dean!” you shout. “You can't help Sam if you kill us all!”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Dean cries. “I just can't....”

“There!” you say, pointing out the hospital and Dean drifts the Impala into the Accident and Emergency bay.

You get out immediately and run to some bewildered paramedics on their smoke break. “Somebody please! Somebody help us!”

Dean scoops Sam out of the backseat and carries him, straining with the effort, “Hey!”

The paramedics immediately drop their cigarettes and run over, bundling Sam onto a gurney and wheeling him in. Both you and Dean follow closely until the medical team goes through a door and tells you to stay put. The door shuts in your faces and you're left outside.

Dean covers his mouth with his hands, his leg bouncing up and down nervously.

“He's going to be ok,” you say, trying to make the lie convincing to yourself as well.

“I don't think he is, Tabs,” Deans says brokenly. “You saw him. I don't even know what that energy crap is. It could be killing him because he didn't finish what he started. Maybe all I've done is just kill him slower and not got anything to show for it.”

“Stop it,” you say firmly, hugging him tightly. “Stop that right now, Dean Winchester. You're not doing the torturing yourself, crying on the Impala thing you always do. We'll get him through this and you of all people should know that death is not permanent in our game.”

“Goddamnit,” Dean mutters, burying his face in your shoulder. You know he won't want to look at you. He was always embarrassed to be seen breaking down so you just comfort him, holding him close and stroking his hair. You feel his chest jerking as the sobs wrack his body and you shush him gently.

You stay that way for a long time until he lifts his head slightly and kisses your cheek.

“Thank you,” Dean whispers. “Whatever happens now, thank you for being with us, Tabs. I couldn't have gotten through this without you.”

“Shut up, you soppy idiot,” you say, smiling.

“Never, princess,” Dean chuckles, a slight sad smile returning to his face. “You mean a lot, to me and Sam. Hell, we've never had anyone reject their entire country for us before, that's pretty special....and I'm sorry that this didn't play out 'til the end. You must think we've took you for a ride.”

“No Dean,” you say, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I wanted to close the gates of Hell, I really did. I wanted to be able to stop the nightmares for people everywhere but I was not going to do that at the expense of Sam. If there's anything I've learned from my time with you two, it's that the world needs two Winchesters and I was not about to sacrifice my friend.”

Dean looks at his feet, trying to bite back the tears, “Ah crap.”

“Stop being such a male stereotype,” you laugh. “You can cry if you need to.”

He laughs also and pulls you into another crushing hug again. A doctor comes out of the emergency room door and coughs. You both break apart and whirl around.

“Mr Winchester?” the doctor says. “Your brother has fallen into a coma. We've managed to keep him stable for now but there doesn't seem to be any initial improvement. We've moved him out to one of the wards. You can see him now.”

You both rush to the ward and see him, hooked up to several tubes and pale. He's in a hospital gown and it feels weird not seeing him in a plaid shirt.

“Sammy,” Dean calls quietly.

There's no response and Dean draws a chair up to the bed, sitting down and taking Sam's hand. You pull up a chair on the other side.

“God, Sammy,” Dean sighs. “This is my fault...Cas? Castiel if you're out there, please. We need help.”

You fully expect the angel to appear but there's nothing. What the hell was going on? Usually Castiel was never far away when you all called for him. Did something happen during the fall of the angels?

“Screw this,” Dean mutters. “Any of you dickhead angels out there? If you help me, I'll help you get back into heaven.”

“Dean,” you say warningly. “Don't do that. You know what they're like.”

“We've done worse,” Dean says pointedly. “We've worked with demons, hell, why not angels too, huh? If they can give Sammy back to me, I frankly don't give a crap.”

“Well we've got the King of Hell in the boot, Dean,” you say. “Can't he make this go away?”

Dean looks up at you in surprise, “You're right. Stay there.”

“Excuse me?” you say, affronted.

“I'm not letting you near that son of a bitch,” Dean hisses. “He's got history in manipulating you and I'm not letting you make another deal.”

“So you're going to kiss him this time?” you say huffily.

Dean grimaces before getting up, “I'm gonna do what I have to, Tabs. I'll be back. Watch Sam for me...please?”

You sit back in the chair and sigh heavily, “Sure, Dean. I'll watch him.”

He leaves and you take Sam's hand, stroking it gently. God he looks awful. Even his arms are taking on a pallid colour. You listen to the rhythmic beeping of the machines for a time. How did it get to this? One minute you were happily having diner milkshakes and listening to classic rock with the boys, hunting monsters and the next the King of Hell was confessing his feelings to you and Sam was dying. You were so confused and in turmoil. You felt slightly guilty for even being around the Winchesters after what you did. Why did you even do that anyway? Why did you kiss Crowley? You had total control of the situation and you still did it anyway. God what was wrong with you?! If you closed your eyes you could still see the expression on his face...

 

_I meant every word._

 

You shiver slightly, sitting more upright. The door bursts open and Dean comes in but with a stranger in tow. You stand up.

“Who's this?” you ask.

“My name is Ezekiel,” the man offers with a gracious bow. “I answered Dean's prayer. I'm here to help Sam.”

You stand there, a little on guard. The angel seems to be aware that you're sizing him up and holds out his hands placidly. Dean's phone rings and he goes to answer it but you never take your eyes off of Ezekiel for one minute. Since your last experience in England with an angel, you've never trusted them fully bar Castiel.

“Cas?!” Dean cries. “Where the hell have you been?! I've been calling for you! You're what?....Jesus, ok, ok....Just tell me, can I trust Ezekiel? Alright alright, just be safe, please.” He hangs up.

Dean moves over to you, “Alright, Cas says we can trust this guy but we need to keep the other angels away from this place. We need to angelproof the room.”

“I'll get the spray paint,” you say, wanting to be out of the presence of Ezekiel. You rush down to the Impala before Dean can protest and open the trunk. Crowley's awake and as soon as he sees you his eyes go wide and he tries to speak through the gag Dean's placed on him. You do your best to ignore him and grab the paint before slamming the lid down again.

Once you're back upstairs, you spray the wards and symbols on the wall on the outside of the room. You turn to Dean who's just evacuated the hospital, “I really don't like this.”

“If it gets Sam back to us, who cares,” Dean growls.

“I've got a really bad feeling this is going to backfire,” you whisper.

“Tabs, not now, ok? Now we've got to concentrate on keeping Ezekiel safe whilst he heals Sam.”

He barely has time to turn around before he's flung backwards, knocking straight into you. You both crash to the floor before scrambling upright. Dean charges at the oncoming angels, holding the angel blade ready, jumping straight into the melee. You on the other hand, don't have a weapon and you have to dodge the female angel who slices down towards you. You squat down before shoulder barging her and she falls off balance. You grab her blade, angling it and stabbing it into her ribs. One down, several more to go.

Dean's looking worse for wear, his face beaten badly. You knew the odds were against you so you did the only thing you could. You cut open your palm and drew the banishing symbol on the floor before slamming your hand down upon it. Instantly the angels are pulled out of existence from the hospital. You run towards Dean, picking him up off of the floor and dragging him back into the ward. Ezekiel is huffing in frustration.

“It did not work,” he says.

“Are you kidding me right now?!” you cry. “We went through all that and nothing?!”

“I am sorry,” Ezekiel sighs. “There is one last thing I can try but I am not sure Sam would acquiesce to it.”

You pull Dean to his feet and he grunts in pain, “What is it?”

“I can possess Sam's body, heal him from the inside but he needs to give me his consent,” Ezekiel says.

“Oh no way,” you hiss.

“I will leave his body once the healing process is finished. I give you my word,” Ezekiel presses.

“Do it,” Dean says gruffly.

“Dean, can we really trust him?” you whisper in his ear.

Dean gives you a sad look, “We've got no choice, Tabs.”

You look back to the angel who is waiting patiently, “Fine. Do it.”

You still had the feeling something horrible was going to happen but you buried it deep within yourself.

“I'll need to get you into Sam's mind, take my hand,” Ezekiel says, offering his arm out.

In a flash, Dean seems to have disappeared and you're left with the angel whose eyes have gone bright white as he officiates over the procedure. You stand there, hand gripped around your stolen angel blade, ready to kill him at the first sign of trouble. You feel a rush of power and in an instant, Dean is back with you as if he's barely been gone at all and Ezekiel seems to slump against the wall, his graceful air no longer present.

“Did it work?” you ask, steadying Dean as he sways heavily.

“Yeah, Sam said yes,” Dean mutters, trying to shake himself back to reality. “It's done.”

“Ok, well we need to get him out of here then before more angels show up,” you say.

You both take one of Sam's arms and hoist him up, carrying him out of the hospital and down to the Impala. Dean buckles Sam into the passenger seat and you climb into the back, sitting in the middle.

“Sam?” you ask.

“I am Ezekiel,” comes the reply from Sam's mouth. “I need to explain. Sam must never know I am in here otherwise he might reject me and the healing will be undone. I can wipe his memory of this event. This will make it easier for him to deal with.”

“Do it,” Dean says firmly.

“As you wish,” Ezekiel says. “He will wake up just as he's always been.”

Sam suddenly slumps in his seat, his head lolling to the side.

“Tabs,” Dean murmurs, looking into the rear view mirror. “We do not say anything about this. You understand? Not a word. We can't let him remember.”

You look to Sam's prone form for a time. You really weren't happy with this but you nod all the same.

“Thank you,” Dean says before driving off back to the bunker.

During the drive, Sam begins to stir and he looks around himself blinking, “Hey guys. Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah you did. You couldn't take another one of mine and Tab's arguments over whether Appetite for Destruction or Use Your Illusion I was the better album,” Dean smirked, trying to force the smile onto his face.

“Again?” Sam asks, turning round to you and raising an eyebrow. He definitely seemed like the same old Sam as always. “Honestly, you two are really sad sometimes.”

“You know us,” you smile weakly.

“So...what happened?” Sam asks. “I remember the angels falling and I kinda blacked out.”

You take over before Dean can explain because you know he'll do it in the most suspicious way possible. He was a terrible liar.

“You blacked out so we put you in the car. Seems Metatron betrayed everyone. We've been trying to find Cas for a while. I mean Dean got a phone call just now so we guess he's safe but it's just a mess.”

Sam sets his jaw, “We need to put this right.”

“Agreed,” Dean says firmly.

“Oh and Crowley's in the trunk,” you add. “Maybe he'll give us some information on how we can fix this.”

“Maybe,” Sam muses. He turns back and sits into the seat more heavily. He seems to be deep in thought.

The ride back is silent and awkward.

 

**

 

So now you were back in the bunker and the King of Hell was in the basement. Kevin freaked out a lot when he saw you dragging him through the doors. That took hours of calming down before he felt he could talk properly.

What a mess.

In the resulting days ahead, the brothers didn't let you go near the basement. Dean was adamant you stay away. Both of them regularly kept injecting Crowley with human blood to keep him docile and to make him more likely to talk. Their arms were beginning to look like a traditional junkies' and you winced every time you saw the marks.

“Let me do it,” you say, as Sam rubs the crook of his elbow.

“Oh no frickin' way, sweetcheeks,” Dean huffs, knocking back a beer. “You know why.”

“Look at the both of you,” you say, gesturing to them. “You're running out of vein space. Could you just let me lighten the load a bit? You don't have to take me down there, just use some of my blood.”

“She's got a point, Dean,” Sam says. “We can just get a syringe full up here and take it down.”

Dean grumbles for the longest time before admitting defeat, “Ok, ok, fine. I suppose it gives you a rest, Sammy.”

They prepare a needle before Sam gingerly slides it into your vein. You hiss a little.

“Sorry,” Sam says gently.

“It's alright, I've just always hated the bloody things,” you say as your feel the blood run out into the container.

“I think every human does,” Sam laughs.

“Hey,” you start. “I'm really glad you're fighting fit again.”

“Me too,” Sam smiles. “Thank you for staying with me at the church. I know that wasn't easy for you.”

“I wasn't going to leave you on your, Sam,” you huff.

Sam withdraws the needle and puts a small bandaid on the entry point before pulling you into a hug, “You're far too good to us, Tabitha.”

“You're damn right I am,” you chuckle. “I think I at least deserve the last slice of the chocolate pie.”

“Oh now, hang on princess,” Dean says, swinging his legs onto the floor and pointing the neck of his bottle at you. “You're not that good.”

“I'm offended,” you say, crossing your arms in mock annoyance.

“Yeah yeah, I'll buy you that cheesecake you like and we'll say no more,” Dean huffs. “Just know that if you touch that pie slice there'll be consequences.”

“I'm so scared,” you say flatly and Sam snorts, giving you a playful tap on the shoulder.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says. “It's time to go see Crowley.”

The boys get up and you stay where you are. You wait a good minute after they have left the room before you follow them, using all the tricks you can to stay silent. You creep down the stairs and hide behind the bookcase, listening in on their conversation.

“You know, as much as I love these talks, boys, this is getting very wearisome,” Crowley says in that signature drawl. You feel his voice cut through you.

“Enough,” Sam says, going to inject Crowley. You hear the slight grunt as you assume the syringe has gone in.

“Whose blood do I have the delight of today? Is it yours Samantha? Feels very emotional,” Crowley chuckles.

“Shut up now,” Dean says, in annoyance.

“Oh....no...this is different. It doesn't have the same energy or flavour as you two. It's delicate but fiery. Almost like....”

“I said shut up!” Dean shouts.

“Oh it is, isn't it?” Crowley purrs. “It's our dear little Tabitha's blood. How delicious. So you finally let her help, hmm? Or did you decide this was a treat for me, because I do so enjoy feeling her blood run through me.”

“We're done here,” Dean growls, whirling around and stomping up the stairs. In his blind rage, he doesn't notice you crouched in the corner. Sam follows suit, rubbing his eyes as he goes back upstairs. They shut the door.

Oh great, you were stuck down here now. The second you moved, Crowley would hear you and he'd want to know why you were sneaking around, hiding behind the bookshelf.

“I know you're there, pet,” comes a honeyed voice. “You don't breathe very quietly.”

Well, there was no turning back now. Better to face the music head on. You walk out and see him strapped to the chair, dishevelled and dirty. Beneath all of that though, he still had that familiar swagger and charm. You guessed the spread out injections had allowed him to get his composure back.

Crowley hums loudly when he sees you, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

“Maybe I was,” you say flatly.

“Oh...well,” Crowley drawls. “I wonder why that is.” He gives you a lascivious wink.

“Possibly because you spilled your guts out to me romantically,” you fire back.

Well that wiped the smirk off of his face. He seemed completely blind sided. He stammered for a second before falling silent.

“Not so cocky now, are we?” you say, raising an eyebrow and folding your arms.

“Perhaps you won't be either, darling when I remind you that you kissed me and that it was most definitely not part of a deal,” he says, regaining the upper hand. “Or did you think I'd forgotten?”

Now it was your turn to fall silent as the colour crept into your cheeks. Crowley chuckles mirthfully.

“Poor little kitten, all claws but nothing to back it up,” he smirks. “Aren't you just delightful?”

“So what?” you say aggressively. “You think that meant anything?”

“I think it meant everything,” he glowers in a dark, husky voice. “I think you're afraid of what you feel so you're running from it. Well guess what, darling? I have your blood now, I can sense exactly what mood you're in.”

“Bullshit,” you hiss. There was nothing in the lore that said that was possible. You were sure he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

“I assure you, love, it's quite real,” Crowley says, leaning back against the stem of the chair. “For example, your blood tells me you ate lemon cake earlier today.”

How could he possibly know that? He must have seen the surprise on your face because he bursts into throaty laughter.

“I'm right, aren't I? My my, you do have a sweet tooth, pet.”

You back away slightly, this was getting too intense for you. You shouldn't of come down here. This was a stupid idea.

“Leaving so soon, kitten?” he smirks. “But we were having such fun.”

“I've heard enough from you,” you say. “This conversation is over.”

“Until the next time that you get curious,” Crowley says pointedly. “Maybe you'll go back upstairs and wonder....the things I could have done to him.....tied up, in that chair....completely at my mercy.”

Your abdomen hitches and you fight to keep your breathing steady.

“Oops,” he chuckles. “Or did I just put that in your head, myself?”

You feel the anger grip you. He was pushing all of your buttons in the worst way. You whirl around and cross the devil's trap boundaries, invading his space as you come right up close to him and punch him hard in the face.

He laughs, “That's it, pet. You let it all out.”

Your fist comes down again into his chest and he wheezes slightly.

“Do you like this, darling? Do you like hurting me? Does it make the fire burn in the pit of your stomach?” he growls.

“Shut up!” you hiss, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking it upwards so he is lifted off the chair slightly. “I'll knock all your teeth out if I have to.”

“Such beautiful dirty talk,” he chuckles. “Come, Tabitha. You and I both know there is more between us than said out loud. I've felt it from the start.”

“You're delusional,” you say but you can't quite make the words convincing.

“And you're in denial,” he says. “So why don't you both do us a favour and just accept it. You want to know me. You want to know me in the most carnal way. There's nothing wrong with that, pet.”

You're still stood over him, fist raised. You don't know what to do.

“And I want to know you,” he continues, the tip of his tongue darting out slightly. “I want to know all of you.”

“I don't want to...” you start but you trail off under his intense gaze.

“I get it, pet. You're a hunter, I'm the King of Hell. On paper this should never work but you can't deny that it does. Something keeps pulling us together.”

“Just morbid curiousity,” you say, letting him go and stepping back. “Nothing more.”

“Stop lying to yourself,” Crowley growls and his eyes flash red briefly. “It's tiresome.”

He pushes his arm slightly through the shackles and his fingers brush against your hand. You jerk back, feeling the tingles of electricity run up your arm.

“Don't touch me,” you hiss.

“You don't fool me, Tabitha. You liked it,” Crowley smirks.

You launch yourself at him, raining the blows down. You just want him to stop talking. He turns his head and spits blood out onto the floor before returning your gaze with fire in his eyes. You hover there, chest heaving with the exertion. He sweeps your leg out with a swift kick and you lose your balance, crashing onto the chair and on top of him. You put your hands out to stop your fall and they end up on his torso. Your head falls into the crook of his shoulder. You smell that deep scent of cologne and sulfur.

Crowley turns his head to whisper in your ear, “It appears you've fallen for me, pet.” You feel the slight tickle of his stubble as he speaks the words and you shiver. He smiles against you and gently kisses a line down your neck to your collarbone. You should really pull back. You should push him away but you don't. You just stay there, half perched on his lap and let him. He nips at your skin with his teeth and you let out a slight gasp.

“Mmm, what a beautiful sound,” Crowley purrs against you. “Let me loose, pet. I'll make you sing properly.”

That brought you back to your senses slightly, “No.”

“Then I'll just keep teasing you,” he says before lightly biting at your earlobe. “Or...you could take what you want from me.”

You turn your head in surprise at his blatantness. Big mistake. His lips are on yours again and you taste the slight copper tang of blood on him. His tongue explores your mouth and you lean more heavily into the kiss.

Stop it, a voice whispers in the back of your brain. This is wrong. Stop it. Get away from him. Your body doesn't listen and presses against his.

Crowley breaks the kiss and rumbles next to your ear, “You are divine, pet. See how much better it is when you stop resisting how you feel?”

His mouth finds yours again more urgently and he strains against the shackles, frustrated that he can't touch you.

The door at the top of the basement crashes open.

“Tabs?!” You hear Dean roar in a panic from the top of the stairs.

You jerk away and stand up, seeing the mirth and lust in Crowley's face.

“Oh what a predicament, kitten,” he chuckles. “They've spoilt our fun.”

You do the only thing you can think of. You start hitting him again, over and over. Your lust is blending into fear and rage and you use all of it to hammer your fist into his body.

Sam and Dean run down the stairs and see you, attacking Crowley in a mad fury.

“Tabs!” Dean calls, before racing over to you and pulling you off of the King of Hell. You struggle against him, twisting out of his grip and launching yourself on Crowley once more. Both boys have to physically restrain you and drag you away as you lash out and swear violently.

“Goodbye darling,” you hear Crowley murmur. “Until next time.”

The brothers yank you up the stairs and lock the door before hauling you to your room and forcing you to sit in the chair by your dressing table.

“What the hell was that?!” Dean barks and you let out a frustrated growl.

“Why did you go down there, Tabitha?!” Sam asks, worriedly.

“I heard him,” you say in a shaky voice. “I heard him talking about me and I don't want him to ever talk about me like that again.”

“Heard him say what?” Sam presses.

“About my blood,” you say. “I just wanted to see if it worked the same as yours so I listened on the stairs.” The lie just spills naturally from your lips.

“Goddamnit, Tabs, he got in your head again,” Dean cursed. “I told you this was a stupid idea, Sammy.”

Sam sits on the bed and sighs, “That was incredibly dangerous, Tabitha. You shouldn't have gone near him.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I just.....I just got so angry, I couldn't stop.”

“That's what he wants,” Sam says soothingly. “He wants you to kill him so he can get off easy.”

You knew full well that wasn't true. Crowley wanted you to do something _very_ different to him.

“Can you give us a minute, Sam?” Dean says, flatly.

Sam looks to his brother, shooting him a warning look before sighing and getting up. He pats you on the shoulder as he leaves.

Dean paces like a caged lion before he finally comes over to you and places both hands either side of your body on the armrests of the chair, “Why, Tabs, just tell me why?”

“Why, what?” you say, slightly uncomfortable at Dean's close presence.

“Why do you keep going near him?” Dean asks angrily. “Sam might think Crowley wants to die but you and I both know that's complete bullcrap, ok? I've seen the way Crowley looks at you, he wants to own you and you know it's true, so why do you keep going there?”

“Because I'm scared,” you say in a small voice. Dean's expression changes instantly and he immediately softens. “I don't understand any of this. I don't know why he's so interested in me and it scares me. I want to kill him. I want to kill him so badly before he gets in my head any more than he already is but I know you both need him still for information. So I don't know what to do. I just want him to shut up.”

“Hey, hey,” Dean says, gently, pulling you up from the chair into a hug. “I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to shout, I was just worried about you. I don't like this any more than you do but he's a necessary evil we have to live with for now. But I promise you, the second he loses his usefulness, we'll gank him.”

“Promise me that I'll be the one to do it,” you mutter against Dean's chest.

“You got it, sweetheart,” Dean replies.

 

**

 

Down in the basement Crowley breathes out deeply, trying to clear the blood from his throat. It was certainly worth it. She'd yielded to him, completely of her own free will. He'd won. Sooner or later he'd get out of these chains and then he would take her, make her his own.

The basement door opens and a small flutter of interest and hope sparks in his chest. Was she coming back for more?

Sam walks down into the room, a tortured expression on his face. Oh goody, more emotional heart to hearts with dear Samantha.

“Stay away from her,” Sam growls.

“If you haven't already clocked my predicament, Moose, I can't exactly move anywhere near her,” Crowley says, shaking the shackles for effect.

“You know what I mean,” Sam says, fists clenched as he walks to the edge of the Devil's trap.

“She came to me,” Crowley says, raising an eyebrow. “She's a curious one, your Tabitha. She just can't seem to stay away.”

“You don't talk to her, you don't even look at her, ever again. You got that?” Sam hisses firmly.

“And what about kissing her?” Crowley chuckles. “Because, if I'm honest, Samantha, I'm really going to miss that.”

Sam marches over to Crowley and lands a blow of his own, sending the skin to a deep mottled red where his fist made contact.

Crowley laughs, despite the pain, “She's lying to you, you know. You don't know how many times her lips have touched mine and they've not always been from deals. She wants to be mine and eventually you and your Neanderthal brother will realise that.”

“Stop talking,” Sam growls. “You're not going to get in head as easily as you got into hers with your lies.”

Sam whirls around and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

 

“If only you knew the truth, Moose,” Crowley whispers to the darkness.

 


	8. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You desperately try to avoid the basement and go hunting as often as you can but you get a call from Dean that you just can't ignore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....OOPS. I didn't mean to write about 8,000 words, it just sort of happened.
> 
> Mega monster chapter of heavy angst, tragedy and minor fluff.
> 
> Apologies for my poor proofreading as always.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story, let me know :).
> 
> \- TLP x

You stay away from the basement. In the weeks that followed you went on every single hunt you could with Sam and Dean, and some by yourself. You needed to be out of the bunker. Every time you passed the door you had an internal war with yourself. You wanted to just get on with your life, with hunting Abaddon, but you also felt the compulsion of curiousity pulling you so strongly.

Dean would occasionally catch your tortured glances and try his best to distract you any way he could. You were immensely grateful for that. Even Sam, who didn't seem to realise the full extent of what was going on was extremely protective.

You were out clearing a vamp nest in the next state when you got a call that made your blood run cold.

“Tabs,” Dean's voice croaked on the other end of the line.

This wasn't good. “Dean, are you ok? What's wrong?”

“It's Kevin....Kevin's....” he cuts off and you can hear him trying to stifle his tears.

“No,” you breathe, almost dropping your phone as the energy is sucked out of your limbs. “I'm coming home.”

You hang up immediately, firing up your Cortina before racing back to Kansas. You felt sick, the knot in the base of your stomach was twisting tightly. Not Kevin...please no. The sweet, grumpy little boy you went to hell and back for. You hoped against hope Dean was just being melodramatic, that he was overemphasising but your gut knew instantly when you heard his voice. He's dead.

You spend the four hour drive bouncing your free foot nervously in the footwell, your hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. You were sure you violated several traffic laws getting back here but eventually you pull up into the bunker lot.

Your hand hesitated on the door, you were afraid to go in, afraid to have it confirmed for you but....Dean needed you. You walk in.

Immediately Dean appears, eyes red and ringed. He looks broken. You walk down the stairs, feeling your legs trembling slightly. You take several steps forward before you see around the corner. Kevin is lain on the table, a sheet covering his young form. Some inhuman sound escapes your mouth and you bury your face in your hands. Not Kevin.....

“Tabs,” Dean says, in a shaky voice.

“Oh god,” is all you can say as the tears start falling and your chest is wracked by heavy sobs.

Dean comes over to you, pulling you into his chest and squeezing you tightly. You feel him quietly weeping against you and the two of you just sink to the floor, holding each other.

In that moment you knew, all of your old training, all of your academy learning, it wasn't worth shit. The Men of Letters may have taught you to be an efficient hunter but their ethos was cruel and unfeeling. When you lost an agent, it was just another day, in fact, it was likely their mistake. Being here, with the Winchesters, it was like you were part of another family and you'd just lost something akin to a little brother. It hit you harder than anything you'd ever felt.

“What happened?” you ask, in a listless voice as you manage to gain control of your speech.

“Ezekiel,” Dean murmurs against you. “You were right, Tabs, you were so right. This was all wrong. He was playing us from the start. He's not even called Ezekiel, he's called Gadreel.”

You laugh bitterly, looking up into Dean's face, “Never trust an angel, Dean, they're all bastards.”

Dean hangs his head, guilt flashing over his face, “Gadreel he....he killed Kevin. Then he left.”

“Why?” you ask. “What's the point in killing him?”

“Said he had to, left a note on him, just said Kevin's name,” Dean sighs.

“Like a hit,” you breathe. “He's working with someone.”

“And I'm gonna destroy the both of those dicks,” Dean hisses, before looking over to Kevin's body. You can see the pain flashing across his face and you pull him to you tightly.

“We're going to get Sam back,” you whisper in Dean's ear. “Even if we have to kill every single angel out there to do it.”

“God, I can't even look at him,” Dean says, his voice cracking. “He was just a kid.”

“We need to send him off the right way,” you murmur, looking at the small body, feeling a fresh wave of tears track down your face. “He didn't deserve any of this.”

You stay with Dean on the floor for a while before getting up, pulling him to his feet and telling him to prepare a pyre. He needed a purpose, something to keep his mind busy. You go over to Kevin's body, gently lifting the sheet and you have to stifle back a half anguished scream. His eyes were burnt out. You couldn't even pretend he went peacefully. Your hand involuntarily goes to stroke his hair, though you don't know why.

“I'm so sorry,” you whisper. “I should have been here. I could've helped. Instead I was so afraid of being in this place I left you guys all alone. This is my fault.”

You beat yourself up horribly for a time, just continuing to stroke Kevin's hair before you go to fetch some more sheets and begin wrapping his body in the traditional way.

Dean comes back a time later and finds you sat next to Kevin, quietly observing with your hands in your lap. “It's done.”

You break your reverie and Dean carries Kevin out with reverent grace out to the small woods. He places him on the pyre before squirting lighter fluid all around. He takes a step back to stand at your side.

“You wanna say something?” he asks you, his eyes hollow.

You look to the body, feeling your eyes well up and your throat constricting, “I'm going to miss you, Kevin. I hope wherever you are is better than this place because you deserved so much more than this awful life. I'll never forget you.”

You hear Dean breathing unevenly next to you and turn to see him completely breaking down. You embrace him, and he clings onto you.

“Goodbye kid,” he chokes out. “Take a well earned rest.”

He clicks his lighter and sparks the flame, his hand shaking terribly. You take it from him and throw it towards the stacked logs, seeing the fire blossom and spread until it starts to consume the pyre. Dean grips you with an iron force as he watches the light dancing before him and you both cry until only ash is left.

You return to the bunker, melancholy heavy on your soul and Dean sits down on one of the chairs. He pulls you onto his lap and hugs you. You don't mind. Dean has known Kevin from the start. It must be doubly painful for him as it is for you.

A rush of air sweeps through the main room and you hear Castiel's awkward shuffle as he coughs lightly, “Have I interrupted something? I did not realise Dean that you and Tabitha were courting.”

You both lift your heads up and the angel realises his mistake as he sees your faces.

“Something is wrong,” he says in that matter of fact voice.

You look to Dean but he's still too traumatised to speak so you say the words for him, “It's Kevin. He's dead.”

“How?” Castiel asks, his brow furrowed even more heavily than normal.

“Ezekiel,” Dean hisses. “Except he's not even that. He's Gadreel.”

“Gadreel?” Castiel says and you could swear you hear the panic cutting through the monotone. “Gadreel has possession of Sam and killed Kevin?”

“Yes,” you say.

“This is very bad,” Castiel mutters and you stop yourself from wanting to smack him for stating the obvious. “But there is still an option to save Sam.”

Dean sits more upright, “What is it?”

“There is a way to bypass an angel when they possess a human, speak to the vessel directly,” Cas explains and quickly continues as he sees Dean's hopeful face. “But I don't know of many people who can do that....although you do have one of those people captive.”

You realise it before Dean does, “Crowley.”

“Yes,” Castiel confirms with a nod. “He will know.”

“I'll try anything,” Dean says firmly. “Let's pay him a visit.”

You stand up, allowing Dean to move off of the chair and he starts heading towards the basement. You don't follow. Castiel gives you a curious look.

“Are you not going with him?” he asks, studying you.

“No,” you say. “I'm trying to stay away from Crowley.”

“That is perhaps wise,” Castiel muses. “He has taken an unnatural interest in you from what Dean has told me. Very well, I shall accompany Dean into the basement. Wait here for us.”

He whirls around, the trenchcoat flying out slightly before he disappears too. You wait in the main room for what seems like ages. What was going on? Was Crowley trying to broker a deal? You hadn't heard any shouting or raised voices.

Eventually Dean comes walking into the room, his fists curled with rage.

“What happened?” you ask, a little nervous of the answer.

“That dickbag says he won't help us unless you ask him personally,” Dean spits.

“I can't go down there, Dean,” you say pleadingly. “What if I lose it again?”

“I'll be right with you, sweetheart. I won't let anything happen,” Dean promises, holding out his hand and you take it. He leads you down the stairs and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. It had been a long time since you'd seen the King of Hell and you were afraid he'd stoke those same feelings in you as he did the last time.

Slowly he comes into view, back firmly upright in the chair and the widest smirk on his face, “Hello darling. It's been a while.”

You steel yourself before walking to the edge of the Devil's trap with Dean and standing beside Castiel, “Crowley, we need you to tell us how to hack into an angel's coding.”

“Straight into it then?” Crowley chuckles with a raised eyebrow. “No foreplay?”

You don't say anything. You know the second you start firing retorts back that he's won.

“Fine,” Crowley purrs. “I'll discuss terms with you and only you. Feathers and Squirrel here need to leave.”

“Oh no frickin' way,” Dean hisses and grips your hand tighter. “Forget it.”

You see Crowley's gaze fall on both of your hands intertwined and there's a brief flash of anger there. His eyes narrow and look back to yours accusingly. You instantly feel small, like you've done something wrong but that was ridiculous. Why did you care what Crowley thought?

“Well then,” Crowley sighs, relaxing down into the chair. “Good luck retrieving Samantha. Let me know how it goes, I do so love a good story of woe.”

Dean looks to you and you can see the battle in his mind. He wants to get his brother back but he also doesn't want to put you squarely in the path of danger.

“Let's discuss this upstairs,” you say, eager to get away from Crowley's intense stare.

“Ta ta,” Crowley calls sarcastically as you all ascend the stairs.

Dean shuts the door and leans on it, sighing deeply, “I can't ask you to do this.”

“I know, Dean,” you say soothingly. “I know you wouldn't ask me unless this was important and I wouldn't even be considering it if it was anyone else but you and Sam.”

“He could ask you for anything, Tabs, anything,” Dean says with a pained expression. “I'm not gonna lose both you and Kevin today. I can't take that.”

“Hey,” you whisper, taking his shoulders in your hands. “I'm just going to hear him out with what he wants and I'm wise to him now. He's not going to manipulate me like the last time.”

Dean kisses the top of your head, “Please be careful. We'll be right out here. Scream if you need us.”

“Got it,” you say, smiling slightly.

Castiel pats you on the shoulder affectionately as you open the door and descend the steps alone. Fake it 'til you make it, Tabitha, you think. You try to put on a more confident air as you stride back into Crowley's view.

“Glad to see someone is reasonable in this place,” Crowley smirks. “Come closer, pet.”

“I'm fine right here,” you say pointedly.

“I see the Winchester stubbornness has rubbed off on you,” Crowley glowers with a withering look. “What a pity.”

“You know,” you say, half laughing to yourself. “I've never heard a demon sound so jealous. They've been giving you too much blood.”

“I assure you, darling, this is nothing to do with the blood,” Crowley growls, incensed by your comment. “He desires you, you know.”

“Who?” you asks confused.

“Dean,” Crowley says, spitting the word out like it was poisoned.

“Now you're being ridiculous, he views me as a little sister,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“I was a man, once, pet. I know the signs.” Crowley sinks back further into the chair muttering to himself, “What gives him the right to touch you?”

“Ok, we're done,” you say, holding up your hands. “I didn't come down here for this.”

You start to turn to walk away but he calls your true name and everything inside you clenches. Why did you like the way he said it so much? You reluctantly turn around.

“You're right, darling, we have terms to discuss,” Crowley says, a glint flashing in his eye. “You want me to help you with your rogue angel problem. Fine, I'll do that, but on the condition I can get out of here and accompany you.”

“You want to come with us?” you ask bewildered.

“You still owe me that favour,” Crowley rumbles. “I asked you to release me and you reneged on that deal so I'm giving you the chance to fix your mistake. Wouldn't want to be dragged to Hell again would we?” He gives you a knowing wink.

He had you in a bind. You knew that what he was asking for was simple enough and you thought Dean might even agree to it fairly readily but that also meant Crowley would be no longer trapped, no longer bound. You feared that, you feared what might happen. If you'd lost control once before when he was unable to touch you, well.....

“Tick tock,” Crowley smirked.

You had no other choice. You had to put Sam's needs above your own. You'd just have to trust Dean and Castiel would protect you.

“Alright,” you say sighing.

Crowley just chuckles darkly, crossing his leg over the other and waiting for you to unshackle him. You don't. You just move over to the bookcase, palming one of the syringes left by Sam and hiding it in the crook of your wrist.

“Well, darling?” Crowley says.

You turn around, walking over to him and making a show of fiddling with the metal bars that encased his chest. You stand up suddenly, jamming the syringe into his neck and he swears loudly.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” he hisses angrily.

“Insurance,” you say flatly. “You're more bearable when you're docile.”

Crowley grunts through his pain, “Clever girl but you and I both know the real reason.”

“Oh yeah,” you say disinterestedly, disposing of the lock and moving onto the lower bar.

“You can't resist me when I'm at full strength and that terrifies you, doesn't it pet?” he laughs throatily.

You can't answer. Any denial you try to offer up would just be an obvious lie. He already knew exactly how to get into your head. You move to the shackles on his arms and unlock one, mentally bracing yourself for something to happen but he just sits there placidly, regarding you with an arrogant gaze. You unlock the final shackle and he's now free. You step back quickly, eager to be away from him. Crowley just brings his wrists together, rubbing the wrinkles out of his suit and stands up, stretching languidly.

“Mmm, that feels good,” he purrs. You see him fixate a hungry stare on you and you immediately begin to try and cross back over the Devil's Trap line but he appears before you, blocking your escape and you smack into his body. He holds you by the waist, keeping you upright whilst his other hand caresses your back. “Not as good as you feel though, pet.”

“Crowley, let me pass,” you say firmly, trying to push off from his chest but he just pulls you closer, his head dipping towards your ear.

“And oh have I missed feeling you,” he rumbles.

You can already start to feel your body betraying you. This was exactly what you were afraid of. The heat was already starting to spread in your core. His presence was just intoxicating. He turns his face so his lips were mere centimetres away from yours but he doesn't move any closer. He holds your gaze for a long time and you can feel his ragged breaths on your skin. Why wasn't he kissing you? More importantly, why were you annoyed about that?! Surely you should be happy!

He lets you go and steps away and you just stand there, blinking in bewilderment. He chuckles at your stricken face.

“You are a picture,” he says mirthfully. “One day I'm going to enjoy hearing you beg for me with that pretty little mouth.”

“Dream on,” you hiss, trying to retake control back and you storm past him, out of the trap's boundaries and walk up the stairs. “I'll be back down with the others.”

“Missing you already,” Crowley calls teasingly after you.

You reach the stop of the stairs and Dean bolts up from his leaning position.

“You ok?” he asks immediately.

“Yeah, Crowley will help us if he can come along. Guess he needs to be the one to do it.”

“I don't like this,” Dean says, rubbing his face viciously. “Road tripping with the King of Hell is not what I wanted.”

“Dean,” Castiel interjects. “Crowley needs to perform the procedure. We have to set him free. I can keep a watch on him.”

Dean growls before mulling it over, “Fine, you know what, fine but Cas, if he comes anywhere near Tabs you kill him, ok?”

“I understand, Dean,” Castiel nods.

“I've already set him free from the shackles,” you say. “He just needs to be let out of the trap.”

“I'll do it,” Dean says before disappearing downstairs.

“I won't let anything happen to you,” Castiel assures you.

“I know,” you smile weakly but you know Castiel won't make a blind bit of difference. Something was going to happen on this mission, you just knew it.

A few seconds later, Dean comes marching through the door with Crowley in tow and you breathe a sigh of relief to note he's in the demon handcuffs. At least that was one small mercy. Crowley rolls his shoulders backwards and winks at you as he notices you're watching the movement.

Oh Christ....

“Come along then, Scooby gang,” Crowley drawls. “Time to meet with my contact.”

“Scooby gang?” Castiel asks confused.

“We've not got time for this,” Dean growls before walking up to the stairs.

“Yes, Feathers. You and Dean are Shaggy and Scooby and Tabitha is obviously Daphne,” Crowley remarks, raking his eyes up and down you.

“I do not understand,” Castiel says.

“You don't understand many things, Castiel,” Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes. “It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes, I swear.”

“Just get moving,” you hiss, pushing him in the middle of his back to start him walking forward.

“I love it when you get rough,” Crowley chuckles.

“I will not allow you to make such inappropriate remarks,” Castiel says firmly, attempting to square himself up in defence of your honour. Crowley just bursts into mirthful laughter.

“Always good for a laugh, aren't you?” Crowley says, trying to compose himself before walking up the stairs.

You all pile into Castiel's car and you make sure to sit in the passenger seat with Crowley and Castiel in the back. Dean begins driving. You do your best to stay eyes forward but you can feel the burn of Crowley's gaze trying to bore into you from behind.

“Avert your eyes,” Castiel says, in something of a grumble. “You are making her uncomfortable.”

“Nonsense, I'm merely observing the open road. It has been such a long time since I was above ground,” Crowley purrs but you know he's lying.

“Hey, dickbag,” Dean growls. “Enough, ok?”

“Always articulate as ever, Dean,” Crowley sighs before settling back into the car seat.

You pull up at a place called Waldroff Financial and Crowley, Dean and Castiel disappear into the building. You opt to stay in the car. The less contact you had with the King of Hell, the better. Frankly he was already getting under your skin, his little sly retorts and his innuendos were putting you on edge in the worst way. You were half afraid he'd blurt out what you did the last time you were in the basement. The last thing you needed was for Dean to have doubt in his mind about whether you were betraying his trust. Jesus, this was so messed up!

You see the trio walking back and you try to make yourself look as casual as possible as they get in the car. You didn't need unnecessary questions.

“Missed me?” Crowley chuckles.

You stay silent. It was best to just ignore him.

“So quiet, Kitten,” Crowley drawls. “Are you under the weather?”

“Shut your piehole,” Dean spits.

“A thank you might be nice, Dean,” Crowley says with that red glimmer in his eyes. “Or did I not just find Sam's location for you?”

Dean lets a growl rumble through his chest and even Castiel looks like he's ready to punch the King of Hell. This was really going swimmingly.

Dean drives to a place called Somerset in Pennsylvania. Apparently the Impala was spotted around the area. It was your best lead for sure. You look out of the window, cataloguing the town and trying to burn the area into your memory. It was an old Men of Letter's trick, know your escape routes, know your provision stores and know the type of people in the place that you were dealing with. Your eyes run over a side street and you practically scream out, “There!”

Dean quickly turns the car and you pull up next to the Impala.

“Thank god she's ok,” Dean mutters, trying to lighten the mood.

You all exit, moving into the house cautiously. You hear the sound of running water almost immediately though Dean and Castiel don't seem to notice. You walk towards the noise, ignoring the obvious smell of death that was emanating from another room. You just felt it, felt that there was somebody else here. You peer around the corner and see Sam washing his hands in the sink, the blood trickling down the drain. Sam's back stiffens and he snaps his head around looking straight at you. Not Sam, Gadreel.

You don't have the proper time to move back before he flings a kitchen knife directly at your head. You feel someone knocking into you, pushing you to the ground. Dean? No....you smell the aftershave and scotch. Crowley?! Crowley saved you?!

“Stay low, darling,” he says, his voice urgent before he calls for Dean and Castiel. They round the corner, seeing Crowley pressing over you protectively as another volley of knives is let loose.

Dean looks horrified but the second he spots Sam, he just looks back and shouts at Crowley, “You keep her safe, got that? Don't try anything funny.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Crowley says darkly, pulling you back up to your feet and yanking you around the corner out of harms way.

“Let me go,” you hiss. “It's not up to you two to decide what I do.”

“It's in both of our interests to keep you alive, pet,” Crowley says with a serious face. “Now stay put...please.” He spits that last word out with some difficulty.

You just look at him in total shock before he dives back around the corner to help Dean and Castiel. Did he seriously just say please?! Why was he so concerned about your wellbeing? Surely you were just a bit of fun to him unless....unless what he said at the church had a grain of truth. You didn't really want to think about that right now. It had to be the blood injection you gave him finally kicking in. It had to be.

You heard a loud thump as if someone had fallen to the floor and Castiel pokes his head around the corner, “You may come back. It is safe.”

You walk towards them, seeing Dean bind his brother tightly. Crowley looks to you, an unfathomable expression on his face before nodding courteously. Well this was getting odd now...

“Help me get him to the car, Cas,” Dean says, picking up Sam by the underarms and Cas moves to pick up Sam's feet. “Tabs, go put Crowley in the car.” They walk off, leaving you alone with the King of Hell.

You're not sure what to feel, as you stand there, trying to look anywhere but at him. You're pissed off that they left you with Crowley when they promised they would look after you but after what just happened, your fear of him had dissipated slightly.

“I'll get moving, shall I?” Crowley asks, his eyebrow raised before beginning to walk out.

“Just like that?” you ask, puzzled. “No witty repartee? No heavily laden innuendo?”

“I can do so if you prefer,” Crowley smirks. “Thought you might appreciate it more if I just co-operated though.”

“Ok, but we're going to have a talk when this is over,” you say. The atmosphere between you had changed completely. The sexual tension was still pretty much there but it was almost like there was unspoken feelings that Crowley was repressing. You couldn't help but be curious, against your better judgement.

“I look forward to it, pet,” Crowley says, and just like that, the mischief is back in his eyes. “I wonder if it's just talking we'll be doing.”

Well...so much for that, you think. You felt you were stupid for even thinking there was a possibility of him being something other than a complete cad.

You get back into the car and Castiel has Sam across his lap, holding him grimly. You get back into your seat and Dean heads off, trying to find an abandoned building. The ride is practically silent until you manage to spot a rusty old warehouse. You get out, helping tie Sam down to a chair until you're sure he can't escape. Castiel comes over and moves his hand slowly over Sam's body.

“He is mostly healed,” the angel confirms before stepping away.

Sam's eyes flutter open and he looks around the room before his features settle into one of utter sternness. Gadreel.

“Whatever you have planned, it's not going to work,” Gadreel says with Sam's voice. “You'll have to kill your brother before I'll release him.”

“Just answer me one thing,” Dean growls with his jaw locked, pacing up and down. “Why did you betray me?”

“It's nothing personal Dean,” Gadreel says. “I did what I had to do. This story is much bigger than The Winchesters.”

Dean looks to Crowley who is standing nearby, waiting patiently with his hands free of the cuffs, “Do it.”

Crowley draws out long metallic spikes and begins inserting them into Sam's head. You cringe as Sam/Gadreel begins to scream in agony. You look to Dean who seems as uncomfortable as you are but he's unable to tear his eyes away.

“This is going to take a while,” Crowley states, removing his suit jacket and rolling his sleeves up to the elbows. “You might want to get settled.”

Another loud scream echoes throughout the building.

“I can't,” Dean says with wide eyes. “I can't watch this.” He walks out of the room.

You look to Castiel who is grimly watching on, “Go take care of him.”

The angel turns his plaintive blue eyes to you, “I can't leave you alone with Crowley.”

You steal a glance at the King of Hell who seems absorbed in his work, “I'll be fine. Dean needs you. If something goes wrong, I'll shout.”

Castiel walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it lightly, “I will be right outside. Please do not play the hero if you are in danger.”

“Got it,” you say smiling slightly.

Castiel goes after Dean leaving you and Crowley in the room with Gadreel. Crowley inserts another spike and Sam's body begins jerking slightly before he appears to fall unconscious.

“You don't fancy an ol' fashioned Winchester heart to heart I take it, pet,” Crowley says, his eyes still on his work.

“Not when I have questions I want to ask,” you say firmly and Crowley's eyes look up into your face, the curious expression returning.

“Ask away, darling, I'm all ears,” he purrs, sliding the metal into Sam's head.

“Why did you save me? Why did you tell me to stay out of the way?” you begin bluntly.

“I'm not about to lose my favourite toy,” Crowley replies but you sense the bravado he's putting on.

“See I think that's a crock of shite,” you say.

“Swearing is not very becoming,” Crowley chides. “Unless it's said in the carnal sense. I would love to hear those words from your lips sometime as I take you.”

“Can you just drop the act?” you hiss. “You're not giving me enough credit here.”

Crowley sighs, putting the next spike down on a nearby table. He comes to the back of the chair Sam is tied to and motions for you to come over. You ignore the voice in your head telling you this was a really bad idea and obey. Your curiousity is just too high.

Crowley waits until you're in close proximity before quickly snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you to him. You gasp in surprise and he lays a finger over your mouth shushing you. “Do you really want to know, pet? Do you really want those questions answered? You might not like what you hear.”

You look up into his inscrutable face, “I asked, didn't I? I think I deserve to know.”

“Fiery as ever,” Crowley chuckles, pushing a stray strand of hair back from your face. “Well...as much as you've felt a pull towards me, I have towards you.”

“I've not felt a pull,” you quickly say, trying to disguise your reddening cheeks.

“Darling,” he rumbles, taking your chin in one hand. “I've heard you many times outside that basement door, heard your quickened breaths. You just couldn't stay away, could you?”

Now you're deeply blushing. Bollocks. He heard you. Every time you've ever tortured yourself by looking at that door, he's known.

“And I just can't stay away from you,” he purrs, his hand exploring up your back. “I could have killed you many times, ripped your entire world apart but I didn't want to.”

“Why?” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

“You know why,” he says in a low voice, his eyes full of fire. “You've always known why. Don't lie to yourself, Tabitha. You're better than that.”

His hand comes underneath your shirt at the back and you shiver slightly at the skin to skin contact.

“You're so warm,” he murmurs, closing his eyes slightly. “It's delicious.”

You can't move. You feel frozen to the spot as his fingers caress your back, the sensation sending tingles throughout your body. Was he doing this? Or were you just unwilling to move away?

“Crowley,” you say, trying to put dominance in your voice. You needed to regain control of yourself. For god's sake, Dean and Castiel were only a few yards away.

“Tell me why I can't stay away, Tabitha. Tell me why I saved you,” Crowley goads, letting the hand underneath your chin trail down your neck. “Tell me and I'll stop. Say the words out loud.”

Do you want him to stop? You're not even sure any more. Your body is just reacting to his touch and you can't seem to think straight. Even the little voice that has so often told you to run has been silenced.

Crowley bends his head to your neck, letting his stubble tickle against your skin as he breathes heavily into your ear, “Unless of course...you want me to continue?”

One hand runs from your back round to your front and his thumb grazes against your breast. The sudden sensation jerks you back into reality.

“Stop,” you ask.

He pauses but doesn't remove his hand, “Then tell me, pet.”

“You can't stay away because...because....” you say, searching for the words until it clicks in your head. “What you said at the church was completely true. You want me.”

“I want all of you,” Crowley growls against you neck. “I want your mind, your ferocity, that raw sexual appeal. I want you to give yourself to me, to be able to say you're mine.”

“You want to own me,” you say, slightly scared by the intensity of his confession.

“No, darling,” he says, pulling back from your body and looking into your face. “Nothing can own you. You're too spirited for that. I've come to realise that you're not something to possess.”

What, you were getting emotional growth from a demon?! What exactly had all those injections done to him?

Crowley seems to read your thoughts because he chuckles softly, “The blood has helped, yes. I crave the feelings I experience when it's in my veins. The fire, the passion, the desire.”

“I...” you start but you really don't know what to say. What could you say? The King of Hell was telling you he wanted to be with you and you were actually entertaining the thought?

“Difficult, isn't it pet?” Crowley smirks, letting his hands leave your body. “Fighting against your natural urges, fighting against the person that you are.”

You felt the loss of his touch and hated yourself that you wanted it back. You were so full of self loathing right now. What was wrong with you?!

You find the strength to back away and see a momentary flash of disappointment on Crowley's face before he rearranges it back into a more serious expression.

“I'm going to check on the others,” you mutter.

You start walking away and hear another spike being driven into Sam's body before Crowley calls after you, “You can tell them it's time.”

You find Dean and Castiel outside, sat on an old AC unit and you motion them to come back in. Dean seems relieved that you're alright. You make your way back inside and Sam's eyes are open again. Crowley is stood off to the side, regarding you with a cryptic look.

“Alright, show time,” Dean says, rubbing his hands but Sam's form just starts laughing.

“Good effort,” Gadreel taunts. “I have endured worse. I did say this would not work.”

Dean looks up accusingly at Crowley who just holds his arms out in a shrug, “Fine, Cas, get into Sam and see if you can find him.”

“I cannot,” Castiel replies, furrowing his brow. “I need consent.”

“So we're screwed,” you sigh, rubbing your temple. “This was all for nothing.”

“Not quite,” Crowley says and you look up at him in surprise. “Feathers might not be able to inhabit a vessel without permission but I can. Burn off his tattoo and I'll be able to enter his mind.”

“Are you frickin' serious?!” Dean cries. “You want me to let you possess Sam?!”

“It's not any worse than letting the angel possess him,” Crowley points out.

“What's the price,” Dean growls. “There always is one with you.”

“My freedom,” Crowley says before his eyes flick to you briefly.

“Tabs?” Dean asks you and you break your eye contact with the King of Hell. “Are you ok with this?”

You look from him to Crowley. This was far too many big decisions in one day but there was something about the way that Crowley was standing, looking stoically at Sam's body...almost nobly you would say. Was he doing this for you? The second that thought crosses your mind, Crowley looks directly into your eyes and you see no hint of malice there. He nods, imperceptibly at you. He was doing it for you! Also, he could read your mind? Shit. That was embarrassing. He must've known all the times you'd ever that about him in _that_ way. You see him stifle a small laugh.

“I'm ok with it, if it helps Sam,” you say and Crowley puts on his usual arrogant air as he moves towards Sam, readying himself.

“Cas, get rid of the tattoo,” Dean orders and Castiel holds his hand over the little pentagram. You hear the sizzling of flesh and smell the acrid scent.

“It is done,” Castiel says and moves backwards.

“When you find him, say 'poughkeepsie',” Dean explains. “It's our emergency word.”

“Understood,” Crowley nods before you see the red smoke billow out from his mouth and enter Sam. Crowley's vessel slumps onto the floor. You have to admit that you're very disturbed by the motionless corpse in front of you.

“I have no idea why that asshole is helping us,” Dean mutters. “It makes me anxious.”

“I believe it is because of her,” Castiel says, motioning his head towards you.

“Her?” Dean says, looking at you with wide eyes. “Why? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you say, puzzled. “All I did why ask why he saved me back at the house.”

Dean comes up straight into your face, searching your expression, trying to see if you were lying, “Did you make another deal? Please tell me you didn't, Tabs.”

“I promise you, I didn't,” you say firmly.

Castiel taps Dean on the shoulder and Dean relaxes himself, “Demons are hard to fathom at times but Crowley has ingested a lot of human blood. I believe his intentions are to impress Tabitha.”

“Impress her?” Dean spits. “He just wants to go The Secretary on her.”

“What is The Secretary?” Castiel asks, confused.

“It's....ah never mind, Cas. Please don't say you're trying to tell me Crowley is in love with her because I'm all out of food to puke.”

Castiel looks past Dean to you, “He is definitely trying to court her. I could not say if he loves her.”

“Why her?” Dean asks aggressively. “She's not anything special.”

Well that hurt.

“Thanks Dean,” you say coldly.

“Aww come on, princess, you know I didn't mean it like that,” Dean sighs. “Crowley only wants things when they can help him in some way, things with power, with influence. You don't have any of that.”

_Your mind, your ferocity, that raw sexual appeal_. Yeah, I truly have nothing, Dean, you think.

“We'll discuss this later,” you say, letting him know you were really pissed off. “Sam's the priority right now.”

Dean walks over to the nearest wall and punches it hard, “Goddamnit, why can't I do anything right here? I trusted Metatron, I trusted Gadreel and look where that ended up and now I can't even protect you from a jumped up crossroads demon. I'm really losing it here, Tabs.”

“Then stop trying,” you say firmly. “I'm not afraid of him any more. I can handle myself. You just worry about your brother.

Dean cradles his bruised knuckles, sighing heavily before walking over to you and yanking you into a crushing hug, “I'm always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. You're part of the family now.”

“Something is happening,” Castiel's monotonous voice says as a light begins to form around Sam.

You break away from Dean's embrace just in time to see a burst of energy spew forth and zip out of the exit. Was that the angel? Seconds later you see the undulating red smoke leave Sam's mouth and return into Crowley's vessel.

Crowley gasps with a start before scrambling to his feet.

“Did it work?!” Dean asks.

“He cast Gadreel out,” Crowley confirms.

“I hear something,” Castiel says before rushing out to investigate. He comes back moments later, his eyes full of panic. “It's Abaddon.”

“Grab Sam!” you bark, shoving Dean towards the chair as you ready your angel blade. He looks back at you in shock but you shout at him again, “Just do it! Cas, help him! I'll hold them off.”

“The hell you are!” Dean yells back.

“Actually, you're all leaving,” Crowley says and you could've heard a pin drop in the silence that followed his words.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“All of you, you're getting out and taking Sam with you. Go.”

He walks over to you, plucking the angel blade from your grip and going to stand near the doorway.

“Well? Mush!” he barks. “I'm not doing this for my health, you morons!”

Dean looks completely bewildered at the change in Crowley's ethics but you run over to them, helping both Dean and Castiel hoist Sam in their arms before shooing them out towards the cars. You look back at the demon, the demon who was willing to risk his life yet again today. You didn't quite understand it.

Crowley growls angrily at seeing you still stood there, “Leave!”

You take slow steps, retreating backwards but you can't seem to turn away.

Crowley huffs in frustration before teleporting next to you and grabbing you by the arm, marching you to the door. He pauses when you reach the entrance way, looking down into your face with urgency. “Time to go, kitten. The Hardy Boys need you.”

“Be safe,” you whisper, though you don't know why you care so much.

“Always, darling,” he smiles. “I'll come back for you, of that I promise you.”

He takes his hand from your arm and holds your face, pulling you towards his in a passionate bruising kiss. You just melt into the feeling and when he finally pulls back he does so reluctantly.

“Go,” he says softly, pushing you out of the door and locking it behind you.

You stand there, breathing heavily. What on earth had just happened.....for that brief few minutes, you'd completely forgotten what Crowley was, what he represented. He'd behaved heroically and selflessly....and you were insanely attracted to that. Even now you felt the slight pull in your chest as you worried about Crowley's safety.

 

Shit.

 

You had feelings for him. You couldn't bury it any more. What kind of hunter were you exactly? A bloody awful one and a terrible human being.

“Tabitha,” Castiel calls and you break out of your pity party.

You hop into Castiel's vehicle, the Winchester brothers having long since driven off in the Impala. You assumed they had a lot to talk about privately.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks, noticing your tortured expression.

“No,” you murmur.

“Is this because of Crowley?” Castiel ventures.

You sigh and lean back into the seat, “Yes, yes it is.”

“I understand,” the angel says nodding sagely. “It is hard to process that such an evil thing is capable of emotions.”

“Something like that,” you mutter.

“May I tell you something?” Castiel asks.

“Sure, Cas.”

“There was once a time where I had emotions for a demon.”

“Seriously?!” you half cry.

“Her name was Meg,” Castiel continues.

“ _That_ Meg?” you ask in surprise. “Well I didn't expect that.”

“It was complicated,” the angel says flatly. “Just like I imagine the relationship between you and Crowley is also complicated.”

“There is no relationship,” you say quickly but Cas just gives you a look that a mother would give a lying child.

“He has done a lot of evil things but I sense there is a slight change in him since you have entered his life.”

“I'm not comfortable talking about this any more,” you say, slightly squirming in your seat.

“I understand,” Cas nods. “But I want you to know I will not judge you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, desperate to get away from this topic of conversation. Sure Castiel had just opened up to you but you didn't believe you could trust him with your true feelings. Castiel wasn't known for being very good at keeping secrets around the Winchesters.

You eventually found the Impala parked up and saw Sam and Dean in a heated discussion. You jumped out of the car and ran over to them.

“-I'm poison, Sammy,” Dean's says as he comes into earshot. “Every one I'm near, they either die or something worse happens to them. So just go. You don't need me, neither does Tabs.”

“Dean,” Sam tries to speak but his brother is already getting into the car. “You're not the problem.”

The Impala's engine fires up and Dean drives away, leaving Sam in a trail of dust as you finally catch up to him.

“What's going on?” you ask.

Sam just remains silent, watching the disappearing lights of the car until he finally responds to you tugging on his arm and gets into Castiel's vehicle, not saying a word. You look to the angel who doesn't know what to do either.

“Take us back to the bunker, Cas,” you say softly and Castiel fires up the engine.

 

**

 

Why wasn't she bloody going?! You were standing there, looking at him as if he'd turned green. There was no time for this kind of strange stand off. He teleported next to you and you still wouldn't move quick enough so he made you pick up the pace.

This bloody woman will be the death of me, he thought.

He got you to the entranceway and told you to go.

“Be safe,” you told him.

His heart fluttered briefly in his chest. After his blunt confession, the embarrassment it had caused him to say those words out loud and the way you had pulled back from him so strongly, he had assumed you were truly closed off to him, that you would only ever entertain his presence on a carnal level but those two words...

He let his eyes meet yours and saw the worry and fear there, the unwillingness to leave his side. Perhaps you weren't completely lost to him, that one day you would give yourself freely.

He chanced a kiss, pouring all of his blood heightened emotion into it and you relaxed against him. He sensed your buzzing thoughts completely vanish in that moment.

He heard the cries of demons coming closer and broke away, pushing you out of the door and locking it behind him so you couldn't come back. As much as it pained him to send you back to the Winchesters, it was the safest place for you right now. Abaddon would likely kill you just to spite him.

He readied the blade, preparing his muscles for a fight until he heard that one thought from your mind, loud and clear on the other side of the door.

 

_Shit, I've got feelings for him._

 

The rush travelled down his body, his energy renewed. He would survive this battle. He would take back the throne of Hell and he would come for you.

Calmly he walked to the unoccupied chair, sitting down on it and crossing his legs...waiting. The other door burst open and Abaddon strode in, all full of confidence and cockiness.

Crowley chuckled and smiled, “Hello, looking for me?”

 

 


	9. Mixed Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hunt for the First Blade, you make some tough decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy angst warning incoming!
> 
> Also more of human Crowley!
> 
> If you're enjoy, be sure to let me know and thanks to the regular readers!
> 
> \- TLP x

After the truly awkward ride back, you notice the Impala is nowhere to be seen in the bunker lot. You palm Sam off onto Castiel because you just have this gut feeling that Dean's going to be drinking himself into oblivion right now and you're worried he's going to end up in a ditch somewhere.

“Make sure he does not drive,” Castiel says grimly, bidding you farewell as you grab the Cortina and go towards all the nearest dive hole bars you can find.

You spend about an hour searching, your face looking this way and that until you spot the Impala parked up. Jesus, Dean, you picked the dodgiest place you could find, you think as you note the peeling paint on the front door. You walk in, a little apprehensive as several eyes turn to you. You instantly feel uncomfortable as a wolf whistle sounds across the room.

“Hey, pretty lady,” a grizzled looking man says leeringly.

You just walk forward, ignoring him as you see the back of Dean and the beer bottles littered around him. You clap a hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“How the hell did you find me?!” he cries, almost spilling his beer.

“I know you too well, Dean-o,” you laugh. “You always get drunk when you're upset. I just follow the sound of bottle caps ringing out.”

“Just go back, Tabs,” Dean says sourly, turning his face away.

“Stop using that bitch face,” you hiss. “Sam needs you right now.”

“Nobody needs me, sweetheart,” Dean sighs, hanging his head. “I just mess up everything and everyone.”

“Even me?” you ask.

Dean regards you with sullen eyes, “You can handle yourself. You woulda done just fine if me and Sam hadn't of come along.”

“Probably,” you say bluntly. “But I wouldn't change it for the world, even with all the terrible things we've gone through. We're a team, right?”

Dean says nothing but takes a long gulp from his bottle.

“You know, you can brood over the choices that led you here, fine, but it's done so why don't you start thinking about how this is going to move forward? Sam's alive, Gadreel is gone and it's only a matter of time before we kick Metatron out of Heaven and get Abaddon too.”

“How can you be so sure, huh?” Dean says harshly, twisting on the bar stool to properly face you.

“You think I never read the files on you guys? You've stopped more world ending scenarios than I can count but you know what your ace card is going into all of this now?”

“What?” Dean says, getting in your face slightly.

“Me,” you say. You try to keep a straight face as best as you can but you start cracking up and Dean's pissy mood breaks as he laughs with you.

“Man, I'm so glad I didn't kill you when I met you,” he chuckles.

“As if you could,” you smirk, raising your eyebrow. “Now do me a favour and get me a drink in for the road, would you? I'm just going to risk going to the bathroom in here.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Dean smiles. “Good luck, I'll have a tetanus shot waiting for you.”

You go into the bathroom and it's honestly not as bad as you were expecting. You finish up and begin walking out back towards Dean until the grizzled man steps into your path, his alcohol riddled breath reaching you even from a distance.

“Where you goin' baby?” he slurs. “You didn't say hi to me yet.”

“Nor will I,” you say, trying to side step him but he moves with you.

“I like your voice,” the guy chuckles.

“Thanks,” you say flatly, still trying to get around him but he grabs your arm, pulling you slightly closer and you wince at his lascivious expression.

“I'd like to hear you scream my name with that pretty voice,” he husks out, licking his dry lips.

“The lady is clearly not interested,” a familiar drawl sounds out behind you.

“Who the hell are you?” the guy says in annoyance, still not letting go of your arm. “Her boyfriend?”

“I'll be your worst nightmare if you don't let go of her this instant,” Crowley growls as he gets in between the two of you.

The man lets go of you but pulls back his hand, ready to punch and throws it forward. Crowley effortlessly dodges, placing both of his hands on the man's arm and snapping it with ease. The guy howls in pain, backing up and falling into a table. Many more men stand up, seemingly eager for a fight.

“Anyone else want to insult her?” Crowley asks in a challenge and the bar patrons have the good grace to know a dangerous person when they saw one. They sit back down, muttering to themselves. “Didn't think so.”

“Thank you,” you say a little hesitantly and honestly a little surprised.

“Told you I'd come back for you, kitten,” Crowley smirks. “Although I must say the company you're keeping in my absence is quite abhorrent.”

Dean stumbles over to you, shoving you behind him and becoming a barricade between you and Crowley, “I made a promise to you in the basement that I'd kill you the next time I saw you.”

“So you don't want to know how to defeat Abaddon then?” Crowley says, raising his eyebrow.

Dean pulls out his demon knife, rolling it around his hand. He crouches down slightly, ready to spring until you place a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Stop it, Dean. Hear him out.”

“Are you frickin' serious?!” Dean yells at you in his alcohol fuelled rage. “You were all for killing him yesterday!”

“And then he saved our bacon,” you remind him. “You owe him.”

Crowley's wise enough to let you keep talking, knowing that he'd just provoke the situation. He stands there quietly, observing you.

“Fine, fine but you'd better have something good,” Dean hisses.

“Have I ever disappointed you, Dean?” Crowley pouts dramatically. “Best not to answer that actually. There's one thing that can kill a Knight of Hell and I'm looking for it right now. It's called the First Blade.”

“So where do we find it?” Dean asks.

“Dear daddy Winchester,” Crowley smirks and Dean's eyes nearly pop out of his head. “He once exorcised a demon with knowledge of the First Blade. Do you know of any notes he may have left behind?”

“I might,” Dean says cagily.

“Then we have a common interest,” Crowley purrs, walking to the bar, going behind it and pouring himself a scotch. He ignores the protests of the bartender, silencing him with a click of his fingers. “I propose we work together.”

“I bet you do,” Dean growls. “What's in this for you?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, I've been slightly deposed,” Crowley says, taking a sip of his drink. “I'd rather like to return to my throne.”

Dean thinks about it for a time before nodding, “Alright, let's do this then but Tabs is staying in the bunker.”

“Excuse me?” you say, bewildered.

Dean walks up to the King of Hell, one finger outstretched and pointing, “Don't think just because you saved the day once that you can use this as an excuse to get close to her. She may not know what you're doing but I do and I'm not standing for it.”

“Whatever do you mean, Dean?” Crowley says carefully, a glimmer racing his eyes.

“Crowley, I'm warning you, don't piss me off,” Dean growls, squaring up to him. “She's not yours, she'll never be yours.”

Crowley lets his eyes flick over to you briefly, “Neither is she yours. She won't do what you tell her to, you know. She's her own woman.”

“Bloody right I am,” you interrupt. “Dean I know you're just trying to protect me but seriously, stop. I'm coming with you and that's final. Besides, I need to look after you more than you need to look after me right now.”

Dean comes over to you, gripping your shoulders tightly, remorse and guilt etched all over his face, “Please Tabs, I promise I will never ask this of you again. Just let me do this one thing alone. I need the space.”

He gives you the world's biggest puppy dog eyes, or the closest approximation he can make in his semi drunken state and you stare at him for a while, trying to decide what to do. You've got a feeling if you push the issue Dean'll make a lot of trouble for you on the search for the blade and it'll end up going wrong because he's distracted.

“Fine,” you sigh.

Dean hugs you tightly, whispering against you, “Thank you. I knew you'd understand.” He strokes your hair briefly before kissing your forehead and whilst your chin is settled on his shoulder you look to Crowley.

There lies that same furious expression you've seen a few times. In truth, you're angry yourself. You feel a little emotionally manipulated. You knew you'd be a big asset in helping find the blade because you were the best at research in the bunker but Dean Winchester had to do things the Dean Winchester way when he got on his self destructive path.

“Come on, I'll drive you home,” you say, pulling back. “You're in no state to drive. You can start looking in the morning.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Dean smiles, a little more relaxed now he knew you were going to be staying behind.

He takes a few steps forward before his legs give out and he sprawls onto the floor. You just sigh. Honestly, it was like taking care of a child right now! You bend down to hoist him up and brace yourself to take his weight but Dean's surprisingly lighter than you expected until you turn to see that Crowley is helping you. You both carry him to the Impala and bundle him into the backseat.

“Not your car?” Crowley says with a raised eyebrow.

“If he vomits in my car, I'd murder him,” you say which earns a throaty chuckle from the demon. “That upholstery cost me a lot to restore in the first place, no way am I letting him drool all over it.”

“Honestly, pet, I don't know why you put up with these two Neanderthals,” Crowley sighs, gesturing to Dean's snoring form.

You shrug, “They're like a second family to me now.”

“A family that constantly tells you to stay put, to not do your job, to be a glorified housewife?” Crowley says, circling around you and letting his hand trail across your arm.

“They're just protective,” you say defensively.

“They're suffocating,” Crowley hisses. “I've felt your thoughts, darling, you're as mad at them as I am.”

“That's impolite, you know,” you huff. “Reading a woman's thoughts without asking.”

“But they're so entertaining,” Crowley chuckles. “I especially love the thoughts where I'm involved. Those are most interesting. Definitely not PG.”

You flush a little but he's walked behind you already, lifting a strand of hair and letting it slide through his fingers.

“So what if I'm mad at them?” you say. “We all get annoyed with those we are close to from time to time.”

“And as for protective,” Crowley scoffs. “I didn't see Dean coming to your aid in that bar any time soon. He was too interested in seeing the bottom of the bottle.” He whirls you round, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tightly into him. “I on the other hand wanted to rip that putrid stain on humanity limb from limb for daring to touch you.”

The conflict hits you all over again. Dean is mere yards away from you, sleeping in the backseat of the car but you feel those same emotions you did at the warehouse. Crowley may have reverted slightly back to his old self without the regular blood injections but apparently he was still very keen to defend your honour. You were confused. Surely his feelings towards you should have lessened somewhat as he returned to normal?

“When will you learn, pet?” Crowley rumbles in your ear as he bends his head down. “The things you do to me....it's intoxicating.”

Your hands start running up the lapels of his suit jacket and you swear you feel him smile against you. You hear a slight noise from the car and you jump back in alarm, pushing Crowley away from you for fear Dean may have woken up.

There's a curious shine to Crowley's eyes as he regards you, taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him, “Perhaps one day we'll have no interruptions from those two.”

“I can't do this,” you hiss, backing away as your rational side kicks back in. “It's too wrong.”

“And yet, every time I've been near you, you can't resist falling further down the rabbit hole,” Crowley says with a knowing smirk.

“You're the King of Hell,” you say firmly. “This needs to stop.”

With faster movements than you would give him credit for, Crowley is in front of you again and he picks you up, putting you on the car bonnet and leaning over you so you're lying flat against the metal with his face mere inches above yours. His body is pressing between your legs and his hands snake out, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Tell me you want me to stop and I will,” Crowley says in a low growl.

Your mind is whirling with both fear and lust. The briefest daydream of Crowley taking you on Dean's car flits across and you see the demon above you smirking widely.

“Crowley, please,” you manage to choke out in the smallest voice.

He bends his head down to your cheek, “Your mouth says one thing but your mind and body say something very different, Tabitha.” He rolls his hips slightly, grinding against you and you bite your lip furiously to stop from making a sound, knowing it'll just spur him on.

“I...” you start but he swallows your protests with his lips, earnestly kissing you.

Your resolve is completely gone as you surrender to his overwhelming passion. You hungrily reciprocate, feeling your body reacting to his touch until he pulls back from you, panting heavily.

“Break the warding,” he says breathily. “Let me in the bunker tonight, pet. Let me show you exactly how I feel about you.”

“I...I need to go,” you stammer, finding your voice again.

Crowley graciously lets you up, holding your arm so you can become steady on your feet again, “Think it over, Tabitha. I'll be waiting for you.”

With that's he vanishes. You're left in the fresh night air, trembling slightly. God, how far exactly were you going to let him go just now?! You almost let him enact your little daydream with Dean right there in the car! Why the hell couldn't you control yourself? Even now, you wanted more but the prospect scared you to death. You'd barely had time to work through some of your emotions from earlier about the romantic feelings you were developing but the sexual ones too? It was far too much.

You got into the Impala after digging around in Dean's pockets for the keys. You sent a quick text to Sam asking him to be ready to help you carry him in when you get back and then you set off.

Sam is waiting by the door and he just sighs heavily upon seeing Dean crumpled in the backseat and snoring. You both lift him up, carrying him back inside and dumping him on his bed before you say your goodnights.

You go back to your own room, staring at the ceiling. You find yourself called to the demon warding hidden behind the tiles. I mean....you could just rough up the symbols a bit...a demon would have to know where this place was to suddenly pop in. Perhaps...

You pull back, sitting on the bed and just fighting with yourself. You were not going to endanger this place because of your lust. That was just stupid. No matter how much your body craved the King of Hell, you had to keep it together. It should and would not ever happen.

You get changed into your nightclothes and get into bed. You made the decision then and there that you were too close to the fire. You needed to pull back, to stop putting yourself in situations that'd run across Crowley's path. You couldn't give into temptation if there was no temptation in front of you.

You would not betray the Hunter's code again.

 

**

 

 

You slept a long time and it was almost the middle of day when you finally woke. You stretched, looking around and trying to get your bearings again. Your eyes fell on a red tie that'd been placed on your desk. Well that wasn't there before....

You get up, padding over to it and picking up the object, letting your fingers run across the soft satin. You get a faint scent wafting from the material. Scotch and sulfur.

“Crowley?” you ask to the thin air around you, expecting him to pop up somewhere.

“You didn't let me in, pet,” a dark voice rumbles quietly.

“How did you get in here?” you ask, turning around to see that he'd appeared on your reading armchair.

“Dean and I have a blade to find,” Crowley says, regarding you with a immutable expression. “He was kind enough to let me pass into here whilst he prepared himself.”

“Oh,” is all you say, trying to keep your emotions level, even though your heart was hammering wildly. Goddamnit, Dean, why did you have to let him in?!

“You didn't let me in,” Crowley repeats, tenting his fingers together.

“No, I didn't,” you say bluntly. “You asked me to think it over and I decided not to break the warding.”

“Is that _your_ decision then?” Crowley asks, getting up and crossing over to you.

You shrink back slightly, determined to keep your resolve, “It is.”

You can't read Crowley's face as his gaze sweeps over your expression, “Tell me what's on your mind, kitten. I'm trying very hard not to read it.”

“I told you last night,” you say, firmly standing your ground. “This has to stop.”

“And I seem to remember that ended with you and I on top of Dean's car,” Crowley says with a raised eyebrow.

“That was a mistake,” you hiss harshly. “I can't do this, Crowley. I just can't.”

“Can't....or won't because of societal normalities?” Crowley asks with a knowing smirk and you do your best not to think about the fact he's completely right. You don't need him reading that particular thought.

“Just leave,” you say, pointing towards the door. “This stays civil from this point onwards.”

“Is that what you truly want, Tabitha?” Crowley murmurs and the bravado melts from his form to be replaced with a serious intense gaze.

“Yes,” you reply, ignoring the wrenching feeling in your stomach.

“Very well,” Crowley says softly, taking the tie from your hands and walking out of the room, not looking back once.

The second the door closes you feel like you've made the worst choice possible. Your heart physically aches and you feel like you want to cry. Your self loathing bubbles up as you admonish yourself for acting like a heartbroken teenager. I mean, for god's sake, you'd not even dated....it wasn't like those kisses meant anything. This was just a stupid schoolgirl kind of crush that you used to get on bad boys, it was just that this bad boy happened to be the King of Hell.

You needed to get out the bunker. You couldn't face being around anyone else today and likely Dean would just ask you to watch Sam. You got changed into your hunter gear, strapping up with your Men of Letters arsenal before grabbing your rucksack and beetling out of the bedroom.

You walk out into the main room to see Dean and Crowley talking over John Winchester's journal and Dean's head snaps up in surprise.

“I told you, you're not coming with us,” he says dumbly.

“Got my own hunt to deal with,” you say quickly, hurrying yourself past the two men.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean asks worriedly. “Tabs...Tabs, stop!”

“I've got my phone if I get into danger,” you say over your shoulder as you walk out of the bunker. Not once did you look at Crowley's face in all that time.

You walk over to the dive bar where you left your car the night before. The walk takes a long long time, winding down the dusty road but you're grateful for it. No one can see you here. No one can question what you're doing or what you're feeling. It's just you and the world.

You reach the car, opening it and set off, driving to a clifftop view you know is nearby. The Winchesters have their way to blow off steam and you have yours. You liked to be alone. You liked to sit up high somewhere and watch the horizon. Often in the Men of Letters Cambridge base, you'd shimmy up the clock tower and perch on the ledge of the building, looking out over the campus. It felt peaceful.

You'd been there a couple of hours when you receive a text.

 

**Sam: Are you ok? Was told you'd gone off hunting alone.**

 

**Tabitha: Fine, just needed some time away from Dean and the bunker.**

 

**Sam: Cas and I are about to try and find Gadreel. Do you want to join us?**

 

You mull it over for a while. Although Castiel had taken an annoying habit of asking you probing questions lately, you held nothing against Sam.

 

**Tabitha: Sure, give me a little bit to get back.**

 

You get up from the cliff top, taking one last look at the brilliant blue sky dotted with soft clouds raining sunlight onto the dappled forest below. You sigh before getting back into the Cortina and driving home.

Once you're back, you go straight to Sam.

“Hey,” he says smiling warmly. “Listen, I'm sorry for being a bit of a jackass to you yesterday. I know you're caught in between me and Dean right now and it's not fair of me to take it out on you.”

“Honestly, it's ok,” you say, returning the smile. “I know you two have your issues.”

“I appreciate you bringing him home last night,” Sam whispers so Castiel can't hear. “I kinda hate him right now but I don't want to lose him, you know?”

“Family right?” you smirk. “Why do you think I carted my brother off to Bruges?”

Sam snorts and Castiel just looks at the two of you with a puzzled expression.

“Is there some amusing?” Castiel asks.

“It's nothing,” you say. “So you have a way to track Gadreel?”

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “He uh, left some of his grace behind when I ejected him so Cas reckons he can track him from that. We already extracted it, it's just time to put the plan in motion.”

“Let's go for it then,” you say, readying yourself.

“It's not enough,” Castiel says bluntly.

“What?” Sam says, turning around so quickly that even the angel looks surprised. “I thought you said-”

“I may have been economical with the truth,” Castiel says looking at the floor. “The truth is, there was some grace left behind but with my healing of you, it's diminished it to the point where it's unusable. There is only a sliver.”

“Then why did you let Sam believe otherwise?” you ask, stunned that Castiel would lie to you both.

“I just....I didn't want any more disappointment, but lying...it's not in my nature,” the angel says.

“You know what,” Sam says, his hands up. “It's fine, Cas. We'll find another way.”

“I have made an egregious error, haven't I?” Castiel sighs. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

“There's still Metratron,” you venture. “They are working together right?”

“Yes, that is still true,” the angel nods.

“Then we find one, we find both,” you say.

The bunker entrance doors slams open with brutal force and you look to Sam, knowing instantly what's going on.

“Dean,” Sam sighs.

“I'll deal with it,” you roll your eyes. “Now, shoo.”

Frankly this was feeling more like babysitting when you really just wanted to curl up in a ball under your duvet and eat your weight in ice cream.

Sam gives you a quick hug before vanishing into his room. You go into the foyer and see Dean, looking more pissed than you've ever seen him.

“What's wrong?” you ask and you're just met with Dean's murderous glare before he picks up one of the war table's chairs and smashes it to pieces on the wall.

“Hey!” you shout. “Stop that!”

You run over to him, trying to get him to calm down but he shoves you backwards so hard that you lose your footing and go crashing to the floor.

“Ah goddamnit, I'm sorry, Tabs,” Dean says, hiding his face in his hands. “I didn't mean to do that.”

“Tell me what is going on right now,” you growl, getting back to your feet. “Or so help me I'll walk out of that door and never come back.”

“In here,” Dean says, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his bedroom.

You sit down on the bed, body rigid with anger as you wait for whatever pitiful excuse Dean is about to give you.

“Never trust a demon, right?” he laughs bitterly. “Crowley was playing me from the start.”

“What?” you ask in surprise.

“The First Blade was wielded by Cain,” Dean starts.

“As in....Cain and Abel?” you say.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “Turns out he's still alive and the First Knight of Hell. Crowley set the whole thing up to find the blade and just sat back whilst I almost got ganked by demons.”

You couldn't believe it. This was the same Crowley who'd just saved all your lives a couple of nights ago?! Maybe his selflessness was only a side effect of the human blood, a fleeting emotion. The Crowley that Dean was describing to you now was the definitely the Crowley of old. Selfish, manipulative, scheming.

“But you got away, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be here,” you point out.

“Cain gave me his mark,” Dean says rolling up his shirt sleeve and showing you the symbol. “Means I can hold the blade but I can't get near it. Cain dropped it in the deepest part of the ocean.”

“Well what use is that?” you sigh. “So you got nearly killed and branded for nothing?”

“I told you Crowley was no good,” Dean hisses. “He'll always be a demon. Nothing more.”

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling the ache in your heart start paining once more. “Guess he is.”

  
  


**

 

 

“Lola, not now darling,” Crowley says, shrugging the scantily clad demon off of his shoulders. “I'm watching.”

Lola sat back on the bed in disgust, shoving the discarded pizza box away with revulsion as Crowley sat there watching _Tomb Raider_ , letting tears fall down his cheeks.

“Sounds like her,” Crowley mumbles at the screen, letting the empty syringe fall from his lap onto the hotel floor. “Reminds me of her. Fierce, brave, sexy......unobtainable.”

“I can be that if you want me to be,” Lola purrs in Crowley's ear, letting her fingers trail down his sides. “I'll find a meatsuit that looks like her.”

“But you won't _be_ her,” Crowley emphasises. “My little spitfire kitten....”

“She doesn't want you,” Lola says more strongly. “I do though.”

Crowley just ignores her as his sixth blood hit of the day crashes through his body. Ever since you'd rejected him at the bunker he'd lost himself in a spiral of chasing emotions. Why did you you so earnestly tell him to go? He knew what you felt about him, he'd heard it from your own mind. He couldn't understand why you were fighting so hard against your own feelings. Surely you should have jumped at the chance to finally be alone with him but you just stood there and told him to leave. The look on your face as you'd left the bunker, you didn't even look at him. Why did it hurt so much?

A fresh wave of tears track down his face. He couldn't fill the space you'd left in him. He injected more and more blood, ate as much junk food as he could...even used Lola as a physical hole to fill but it still didn't abate the hollow feeling he carried inside him.

“Crowley, baby?” Lola moans against him, pressing her chest into his back. “Forget about that worthless human. She's nothing. She's just hunter scum. She's not even pretty.”

Crowley whirls on her, pinning her to the bed, his arm around her throat and squeezing tightly. “Don't you dare say that in my presence ever again, do you understand?” he growls in a low, dangerous voice.

Lola nods fearfully and Crowley releases her, grabbing another slice from the pizza box and returning to the film. Lola slips out of the room but Crowley knows exactly where she is going. He's known for some time she's reporting to Abaddon.

The film ends and the screen goes black. Crowley catches sight of himself in the reflection. He looks haggard, unkempt, haunted. How was he going to reclaim Hell if he was pining for a woman who didn't want him? No....he needed to do something. He needed to stop the blood, to cleanse himself, to be back to the old Crowley. Feelings were weakness.

He gets up, just as Lola comes back in and stabs her nonchalantly with a hidden angel blade he carried about, “Just business, darling. You understand.”

She drops to the floor in a heap and he just sits back on the bed, pulling his phone out and dialling the only person he can think to call.

 

**Not Moose Calling...**

 

“Dean,” Crowley rasps as Dean picks up. “I need your help.”

 


	10. Stolen Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are hiding something from you and you're not going to rest until you find out exactly what it is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a lovely christmas!
> 
> Prepare for angst, mild smut and some fluff!
> 
> \- TLP x

You felt like a complete mess. You didn't want to eat, you had no desire to go out of your room and you lost yourself in your music collection. If your old mentor could see you like this now, he'd be dragging you out in front of the entire Men of Letters agency just to give you a verbal dressing down. It was honestly pathetic how you were acting. Sam and Dean kept trying to coax you outside, promising hunts, new information on the First Blade but you just didn't care to be around anyone at the moment.

Today, particularly, after you refused to even go on a supermarket run you could hear them talking outside.

“I've never seen her like this, Dean,” Sam whispers.

“I feel like it's my fault,” Dean growls.

“Why, did you do something?” Sam asks.

“I kept putting her directly in front of Crowley like a goddamn honey pot and then told her to stay behind. She probably hates me,” Dean sighed.

“Dean, you're being really harsh on yourself. Tabitha volunteered for a lot of that and she did it to save us. Now, I was out of it for a long while so I don't know exactly what's been going on but I think she just needs some space from us for a while,” Sam mused. “All she's been doing lately is taking care of our problems and that's not fair.”

“Hey, I never asked her to do that,” Dean hisses.

“Come on, man,” Sam says seriously. “She's part of our weird dysfunctional family and she's a lot like you in a way.”

“Like me?” Dean says in surprise. “What about you? She's a total nerd-”

“Who likes vintage cars, rock n' roll and unhealthy amounts of desserts?” You can practically hear in Sam's voice he's raising his eyebrow.

“Alright, alright. You've made your point,” Dean concedes before letting out an incredibly long sigh. “Just wish we could do something, Sammy. I feel like I'm failing at being her friend.”

“Me too, Dean,” Sam says quietly. “But we can't force our help on her.”

“You're right,” Dean says, scuffing his foot on the ground. “Come on, let's deal with the current problem of the day.”

“You've still not told her?” Sam asks and you can hear them walking away.

Oh, your interest is peaked now. You lightly hop out of bed, sneaking over to your door to catch the conversation as the voices fade down the corridor.

“Like she needs more of an excuse to shut herself away,” Dean scoffs. “No I haven't.”

“You're gonna have to tell her soon. If she walks into that room and finds out-”

“It'll be over before she can find out,” Dean interrupts.

You can't make out any more sentences but your mind is reeling. The Winchesters were keeping secrets from you now. Well that was just great....if Dean felt he was failing as a friend he just confirmed that for you.

You lay back on the bed, watching a movie for a while until you hear a knock at the door.

“Hey Tabs,” Dean's voice wafts through the door. “Sure you don't wanna come? We're about to go.”

“I'm fine,” you say, your voice devoid of emotion.

You can hear him shuffling awkwardly on the other side of the door, “Ah...ok then. We'll be back later.”

Once the telltale bang of the bunker entrance sounds, you immediately spring up out of your room. Whatever the brothers were hiding, you wanted to know. Apparently from Dean's earlier comments, it wasn't something you were going to like. You felt a little personally insulted that they couldn't talk to you about it.

You searched the library, the weapons room, the garage, the utility room, the bedrooms, the kitchen, the war room and even the little closets. Absolutely nothing. You leaned against the kitchen unit, letting out a frustrated growl until your eyes fell on the basement door.

No...

It couldn't be...

Something that'd make me stay in my room....that Dean didn't want to tell me about....

Before you knew what you were doing, you opened the door and started walking down the stairs. You were ready for an argument, a fight even.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said as you descended the steps. “Why are you back...”

The words die in your throat as you see him.

Crowley.

He's in long shackles in the middle of the Devil's trap, his suit jacket nowhere to be seen and his shirt plastered to his body with sweat. He's shivering on the floor, his breath coming in uneven gasps. There's dark circles underneath his eyes, etched down almost to the bone of his skull. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

“Shit!” you gasp, coming to a dead stop at the bottom of the staircase. Your heart felt like it had been wrenched from your chest.

Crowley's eyes look up to yours and they're bloodshot, rimmed in pink rings. The pupils widen as they see your face and he curls up into a ball, trying to hide himself.

“What the hell have they done to you?” you breathe.

“Not them,” Crowley grimaces. “Just go.” A wave of pain seems to hit him and he grunts primally, curling further into himself.

“I can't leave you in this state,” you say, starting to walk towards him.

Crowley twists so he's lying on his front and looks up at you, face contorted in agony before he roars, “JUST GO! DON'T LOOK AT ME!”

The sound reverberates off the tiles, amplifying the sound and you wince at his harshness.

“Please,” he whispers. “Don't look.”

You can't help it. As much as you'd promised you'd stay away, you're already crossing the Devil's trap line. Days of moping around in your room, trying to shake off this infatuation and in two seconds flat of seeing him again, you're already kneeling down beside him.

“What happened?” you ask.

He turns away from you, covering his head with a crooked arm, “Tabitha, I'm begging you. Go.”

Begging? The King of Hell was begging?

“No,” you say firmly. “Not until you tell me why Sam and Dean have you chained down here again and why they didn't tell me.”

“They didn't tell you because they didn't think you'd care to know,” he says quietly. “You made your feelings on the matter quite clear.”

He almost sounded....sorrowful? Maybe? You couldn't quite place the tone, it was unfamiliar to his voice.

“Just because I said what I did, doesn't mean I want to see you suffering,” you sigh. “Will you just please tell me what all this is? I feel like everyone's keeping secrets from me.”

Crowley lets his arm drop a little so you can see his unfocused eyes but he still refuses to look straight at you, “I'm...rehab-ing. From human blood. Sam and Dean...they...are letting me detox down here.”

“Are you telling me you got addicted to it?” you ask, bewildered.

He spasms slightly, groaning as the muscles twitch before he manages to spit out, “You have no idea how good it felt. To feel again. To feel emotions. You take it for granted. Demon's cannot be capable of such sensations....but, it's too much. I can't bear it any more. I need......I need to be true to who I am again.”

“You need to be the King of Hell again,” you finish softly and he nods before he jerks wildly in pain.

You drop from your knees down onto the floor, grabbing Crowley's agony stricken body and pulling him so he's lying with his back to your chest and you hold him tightly, rocking him gently.

“What...what are you doing?” he asks when the wave stops.

“You're right,” you whisper, barely able to admit it to yourself. “I can't stay away.”

Crowley lets out a sound that's half a whimper and half a laugh, “This scenario is not where I imagined you'd say that me, pet.”

“I didn't really imagine I'd be saying it at all,” you say, lightly stroking the top of his head as he shivered violently. “Least of all that I'd be admitting you were right about something.”

Crowley lets out a strangled laugh, his hand grasping yours that's wrapped around him, “You should still go, Tabitha. Sam and Dean will return soon and this looks very....compromising.”

“Oh so now you care about my reputation?” you snort. “Didn't phase you before when you were telling Dean I was a good kisser.”

“Dean is...amusing to wind up,” Crowley chuckles before all of his muscles tense up at once and he grimaces through clenched teeth.

“Did you really leave him to die?” you ask. That question had been burning in your mind for days. You'd spent so long agonising over whether the demon you'd come to start caring about was just a by-product of the blood ritual.

Crowley falls silent for a time and he stares directly ahead before finally answering, “I did.”

Your stomach drops slightly and you subconsciously release your embrace on him, “Just tell me why.”

“Because he doesn't deserve you,” Crowley hisses viciously. “He takes and takes and gives nothing back. He lies to you, he uses you, he dumps his emotional weight and daddy issues onto you. I've watched you solve their problems so many times and what do you get in return for it, Tabitha?”

“So you wanted him to die for that?” you say angrily. “Are you really that petty?”

“Yes, I am,” Crowley growls resolutely. “I'm a bloody demon.”

“A demon that has lied to me, used me and taken pleasure in tormenting me,” you say, pulling away from him so you're towering over his body. “What makes you any better than Dean?”

He looks visibly upset, “I'm not any better than him, pet and that's why I'm angry, because you're never going to see me as anything more than the King of Hell and Dean Winchester will always be the saviour of the world.”

“Ahhhh,” you hiss in annoyance. “Bloody hell, why do you have to do this, huh? It's not a contest!”

“It always is, love,” Crowley says sadly. “And it's alright, I've come to accept it now. I will never be able to call you mine so please...just go. Let me get this out of my body and we can go back to being a demon and a hunter. Nothing more.”

You look down at his face, his forehead wrinkled with the exertion of the withdrawal. He looks so vulnerable. How much blood had he been taking? Even when you and the Winchesters were administering the dosage, you'd never seen him get to this point. His composure was completely gone and it was raw emotion spilling out of him.

The sound of your real name with his pleading voice snaps you back to reality.

“I can't,” you say quietly. “I can't go. Even after all the terrible things you've done, all the times you've manipulated me, every time you've had a pissing contest with Dean.....I mean, I've spent days trying to sort my head and telling myself that it was the best decision to cut you out and look at me now, I'm standing in a Devil's trap with you.”

Crowley looks at you warily, as if afraid you'll change your mood again before he stretches out a shaking hand and trails the line of your jaw, “You've not been eating, pet. Is that because of me?”

You bite your lip hard, chewing it nervously before nodding silently.

Crowley pulls a face before laughing bitterly, “We're a self destructive pair, darling.”

You smile sadly until Crowley violently arches upwards, his hands wrapping around the chains to ground himself through the pain. You quickly lean over him, holding his head down in place and touching your forehead to his.

“Breathe through it,” you whisper. “I'm here.”

He shakes intensely for a time until you feel his body go slack and he gasps for breath. You can feel the hot air brushing over your face as he exhales quickly.

“I didn't want you to see me like this, pet,” he pants.

“Put aside your damned ego for one minute,” you say firmly.

He takes your face in his hand, the chains rattling and strokes his thumb over your cheek. You lean into the touch slightly and you see a smile ghost over Crowley's lips. With your forehead pressed to his, you lower the rest of your face down, touching noses.

“My kitten,” Crowley rumbles and you feel the sound travelling through his chest.

You stay like that for a time, heads against each other, just content to relax to the sound of your shared breathing. Suddenly Crowley roars with anguish before he starts fitting on the floor. In your panic, you lay on top of him, keeping him still, placing your hands behind his head to stop him breaking his skull against the stonework.

“You can get through this,” you whisper.

He stills, his eyes focusing again, “Remind me never to touch human blood again, although perhaps if you're going to be on top of me it was worth it, pet.”

You can't help but laugh. Same old Crowley. “Don't get used to it. Once you're back to your old self I'm sure you'll have better things to think about than one British hunter.”

Crowley gives you a curious look before hooking his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you down and into a fervent kiss before looking you dead in the eyes, “No matter what state I am in, darling, you've always been at the forefront of my mind.”

“Charmer,” you say wryly and he chuckles.

“Although I confess, most times it's not for family friendly reasons,” he smirks.

“I wouldn't expect anything different from you,” you laugh.

“And yet, I've divulged more emotions to you than I've cared to in the past few weeks,” he says, the smirk fading to be replaced by that vulnerable expression again. “I'm not used to feeling so....exposed.”

“Shh,” you say gently, stroking the heavy growth of stubble on his jaw. “It's been a brave new world for both of us. I hardly expected to be kissing The King of Hell when I graduated the academy. Kind of rule number one, right? Don't become emotionally attached to the enemy?”

“I will never be your enemy, Tabitha,” Crowley says softly.

“Promise me,” you whisper, finally accepting your feelings. “Promise me you'll never betray me. Promise you'll never hurt me.”

“I promise,” he purrs. “And I keep my promises as you well know, pet.”

You press your lips to his and all the tension, all the worry and all the self loathing melts away. Enough of burying your feelings. This felt right, here in this moment. Everything Crowley has done has been because of you.

He wraps his hands around your back, letting his fingers lightly graze up the skin where your t-shirt has hiked up. His kisses become hungrier and he grasps you to him firmly. You can't help but move against him, and the action causes him to growl into your mouth. Your fingers move to start unbuttoning his shirt but he stops you with lust blown pupils and panting breaths.

“Not here, darling. The first time I take you will not be in a Devil's trap with me in chains and the threat of the Winchesters finding us,” he says, his voice low and husky.

“And what will the first time be like?” you ask, trailing kisses down his neck.

“Like nothing you've ever experienced, of that you can be certain,” he purrs. “Everything will be....bliss.”

He teasingly lets his fingers stroke down the sides of your chest, gently touching the swell of your breasts and you stifle a small moan.

“Ravishing,” he smiles. “I look forward to hearing that sound again soon, pet. Now, go. Go back upstairs before the Hardy Boys come back.”

“One for the road?” you ask, smirking and he chuckles darkly.

“Now how can I resist such a request?”

He passionately nips at your lower lip before crashing his mouth against yours. You bravely let your tongue slip into his mouth and he meets it with his own, the pace settling to something more languid. Crowley pulls away, groaning slightly in frustration.

“If you don't leave, darling, I'm going to lose my resolve,” he growls.

“Can't have that, can we?” you say teasingly.

“Mmm, I knew you were going to be passionate, kitten but I'm really quite pleasantly surprised,” he chuckles.

You hear the clang in the distance of the bunker door and your muscles seize up in panic. You knew you were on borrowed time down here but you really didn't expect the Winchesters to be back so soon.

“Go now, pet,” Crowley urges, sitting up and pushing you to your feet.

“Will you be ok?” you ask, trying to smooth yourself out.

“I've been feeling much better in the last few minutes,” he smiles. “Go, Tabitha before-”

“Tabs?!” Dean's worried voice comes ringing down the stairs as the basement door opens.

You hurriedly rush to the boundary of the trap and try to nonchalantly lean against the bookcase. There was no other exit. You'd just have to wing it.

The Winchester brothers barrel down the stairs and rush into the space before finding you staring coldly at Crowley on the floor. Dean swallows thickly, turning to Sam and they exchange worried looks before Sam ventures, “Tabitha?”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you ask. “Or am I that much a part of the family that I'm now subject to secrets and lies?”

Dean visibly winced, “Listen, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't think you'd approve of this.”

“We just wanted to give you a break from all of this,” Sam says, helping his brother out. “It didn't have to be another mess you helped us clean up.”

“You know, I wouldn't have been happy with all of this,” you say, pointing to Crowley. “But I thought you respected me a little bit more as a person to entrust me with the truth.”

Dean looks at the floor, clenching his jaw in shame, “You're right. It was my choice, Tabs, not Sam. Don't blame him.”

“Enough Dean!” you spit harshly, standing upright. “Both of you, get upstairs, now. I'm not having this conversation in front of _him_.”

You shoo them back up to the kitchen and just as you're about to start up the steps, you turn around and give Crowley a slight smile. He responds with one of his own.

You get back upstairs, closing the door with aggressive force and both brothers jump slightly. They seem incredibly nervous around you. You'd never properly lost your temper in their presence before.

“Tabitha, can I just say, we're really sorry,” Sam says imploringly. “We didn't mean to offend you and we didn't mean to push you away. We were just trying to help. I know this Crowley situation has been difficult for you.”

“It just hurts that you couldn't tell me,” you say quietly. “I thought we were supposed to be a team.”

“We are, sweetheart,” Dean says and you can see the slight wateriness in his eyes. “I just didn't want you getting hurt.”

“From now on,” you start, folding your arms. “Complete honesty. I don't care if you think I won't like it, I don't care if you're trying to protect me. I hate being lied to. Also, I was one of the elite in the Men of Letters, I can take care of my bloody self.”

“I know you can, Tabs,” Deans says sadly. “In fact, you've been taking care of us, throughout all this crap. We can never thank you enough for that. We won't keep anything from you any more.”

“Agreed,” Sam nods.

“Good,” you sigh. “Now tell me what's going on.”

Sam starts, “Crowley called Dean. He's going to tell us the location of the First Blade in exchange for us helping him detox from human blood away from Abaddon. She apparently had some spy watching over him.”

“So that's why he looks so terrible,” you say, faking the musing.

The irony was not lost on you. Here you were preaching about full honesty and you were keeping a secret of your own. You guessed you were banking on Crowley redeeming himself enough in the Winchester's eyes before you could tell them. Less fallout that way.

“Yeah, he's not doing too well,” Sam concedes. “But if he can help us, we can stop at least one of the problems.”

“You think he will?” You ask. “Help us, I mean?”

“I mean he's been a little erratic,” Dean chips in. “First he saves our asses then he nearly gets me shish kebabed and now he's helping us again.”

“And his little church confession,” Sam adds. “That was pretty, uh, intense.”

“You're telling me,” you laugh. “Ok, if he's going to help us, I'm in.”

“Are you sure, Tabs?” Dean asks, concern on his face.

“Yeah, no more backbenching me, Dean,” you say pointedly. “I want to help. Let's kill this redheaded bitch.”

“Hell yeah, princess,” Dean says, a smile returning to his face now he realised the air was cleared.

“Let's do this,” Sam nods warmly.

“Oh and...uh,” Dean chirps up before going to the fridge. “I felt like a dick for what I did at the bar so I got you this. Didn't know whether you were going to accept it or throw it in my face but I hope it's the former now.”

He pulls out an industrial sized cheesecake and Sam just rolls his eyes before whispering, “Barely fit in the damn trunk.”

You snort, going over and knuckling Dean's head affectionately. He squirms in protest and you pull him into a rough hug. You extend your arm out to Sam and he comes over to be yanked into the hug as well.

“No more secrets, boys,” you say, squeezing them tightly.

“Team Free Will, right?” Dean laughs.

“Go team,” Sam says sarcastically and you laugh too.

Honestly, this was the lightest you'd felt in a while. You'd been drowning in the brother's heavy angst for some time now after the Trials as well as your internal battle about your feelings for Crowley but now it felt like everything was resolving itself and heck, even Sam and Dean seemed to be co-operating better again.

You spent the rest of the night, laughing, joking, digging into the cheesecake with starving vigour and everything seemed back to normal. Well...almost everything.

It was night time. You waited until you could hear Dean's loud snoring through his bedroom door and you knew Sam was a heavy sleeper himself. As quietly as you could, you opened the basement door and shut it silently behind you. You padded down the steps barefoot until you hit the landing.

Crowley was sitting cross legged on the floor, his back straight and his eyes closed in deep meditation. He seemed to have gotten over the worst of it. He opens one eye and that familiar smirk quirks at his lips.

“Darling, you're going to get us caught,” he purrs, before opening both eyes. “Not that I'm not loving the interruption.”

“Do you want me to go then?” you ask coyly. “Because I brought refreshment.”

You produce a bottle of whiskey from behind your back, one that you'd been saving since you'd come over from the UK.

“Mmm your offer is very tempting, pet. You can stay, so long as you come over here,” he says patting his thighs.

You walk over and he pulls you down onto his lap, letting his hands run roughly over your legs and hips. You open the bottle, letting the scent of the oak smoked alcohol waft between you.

“A good vintage,” Crowley purrs, inhaling deeply. “Didn't know you had such fine taste, kitten.”

“I guess I'm just full of surprises for you,” you say, giving him a smirk of your own.

“As if I needed further reasons to be enraptured by you,” Crowley chuckles, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it through his fingers. “May I tell you something, Tabitha?”

“Of course,” you nod, wondering where this was going.

“I can feel that the blood has left my vessel's system and my own essence but my emotions towards you have remained the same,” he murmurs quietly, still playing with your hair. “It's curious.”

“Maybe demons are more capable of feelings than you first thought,” you venture. “Dean told me Cain had a woman he loved, stands to reason that others like him could be the same.”

Crowley's eye widen, “I've never considered that before. Perhaps I didn't feel it possible because no one had ever piqued my interest.”

“And...how long have you been a demon?” you ask.

“Well I died in 1723 and I was over sixty at the time,” Crowley says simply.

You blink slightly, “You know saying it like that is a little mind boggling. I'm sat on the lap of someone who's been around for three hundred and fifty years.”

“The age gap is simply criminal, isn't it?” Crowley chuckles, his hands finding the tops of your thighs and massaging them gently. “And to answer your silent question, no. Nobody in the last three hundred years has...inspired such emotions in me.”

“Well don't I feel special,” you laugh.

“You should,” Crowley smirks. “Now, are you going to share that bottle or just wave it in front of me as further temptation?”

“Further?” you ask, a little perplexed.

“I have a beautiful woman on my lap with quality liqueur,” Crowley explains. “There is only so much a humble demon can take, darling.”

“Then I shan't keep you waiting,” you smile.

You use your finger to tilt Crowley's chin up and his head back. He obliges, parting his lips slightly for you to pour the whiskey into his mouth. He savours the taste, letting it swirl around his tongue before finally swallowing.

“A very good vintage,” he purrs.

You lift the bottle to your own lips, taking a long sip and feel the slight burn running down your throat, filling your stomach with warmth. You were definitely glad you'd brought it over.

“Be flattered I'm sharing it with you,” you say, taking another long sip. You instantly start to feel the heady buzz of slight tipsiness. You weren't a particularly heavy drinker, or as your old Academy friends would term it 'a lightweight'.

“I'm always flattered by your attentions, kitten,” Crowley says, reaching around to cup your waist.

You get a silly idea, one that you're sure should be completely relegated to tacky romance dramas. You let your mouth flood with whiskey, holding it there before grabbing Crowley by the shirt collar and pulling him into you. You kiss him, letting the alcohol flow from your mouth to his and he drinks it greedily before his tongue laps the last remnants. You break away to regain your breath, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of the whiskey and the increasing heat in your body.

“Trying to get me drunk, darling?” Crowley chuckles. “It's really not necessary, I'm very easy.”

“Only for me, I hope,” you counter, letting your hands wander down his chest.

“There's only you, pet,” he murmurs before he slips his hands under your shirt, running his hands up your waist and to your ribcage. “And you're very...tormenting.”

“Oh I am?” you say, emboldened by the alcohol.

You set the bottle down before pulling your body flush to his, letting your hands grasp onto his shirt and your mouth find his neck. The guttural moan he lets out only adds to the ache between your legs.

“Kitten,” he growls in warning. “I told you I didn't want to take you down here. Stop enticing me.”

“But you want to,” you say, more of a statement than a question.

“Of course I bloody want to,” he hisses, raking his nails down your back and you gasp at the sudden sensation. “But you deserve better than a cold floor.”

You involuntarily buck against him as his nails reach your lower back and begin digging into the soft flesh below. Crowley lets out a string of low harsh expletives and you can see he's holding back with all of his strength.

“Then don't take me,” you murmur in his ear. “But there are other things we could do, right?”

Crowley's breath hitches slightly as he considers your words, “You would have to be silent, pet. Think you could do that for me?”

“I'm not good at being silent,” you admit.

“Mmm, you're making this more difficult for me, Tabitha,” Crowley protests. “I like a woman who expresses herself. Perhaps....”

He digs around in his trouser pockets before he pulls out his signature red tie. You had been wondering about where it had gone. He unravels the strip of satin and quirks his eyebrow up. You immediately understand his meaning and nod. He places the tie gently in between your lips before tying it behind your head.

“Now...let's see if that will muffle...this,” he muses, letting his thumb run over the seam of your jeans and you give a muffled moan, jerking upwards slightly. “Perfect. Red is definitely your colour, darling.”

He makes short work of your jean fastenings before tugging the fabric down slightly, along with your underwear, just enough for him to get access but not so far down that if Sam and Dean come looking for you, you can't pull them up in time. He lets his fingers ghost over the smooth flesh before teasingly diverting to your inner thighs. You growl in frustration and he just chuckles darkly.

Well two could play at that game.

Your hands hook into his trouser waistband, quickly undoing the button and your run your hand down from his lower abdomen to the top of his boxers. Silk...of course....why should you have expected anything different? Your fingers skate across the material, just around his obvious erection but not touching it.

“Now that's just impolite,” Crowley glowers.

You can't speak but you give him a reproachful look, pointedly gesturing to his own hands which are running little lines at the point where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“You make a fair point, kitten,” he smirks. “Now purr for me.”

Two fingers run up your folds with a third gently pressing in the centre. When the third finger catches a sensitive spot you twitch slightly, letting another muffled moan out. You can hear Crowley chuckling to himself as his hand dips down and he lets a finger sink into you with delicate movements. He doesn't stay there long but uses the wetness of your arousal to coat your aching clit as he starts to make small circles. You completely forget what you were doing as the feeling envelops you and you let your head loll forward slightly, against his.

“Delicious,” he murmurs.

You regain your senses slightly, finally letting your own hand brush against the straining bulge in his boxers and he hums appreciatively. He moves his hand away from you and huff a little in annoyance at the loss of sensation.

“Patience, pet,” Crowley says, pushing his trousers down slightly and his boxers.

You don't have any patience left. The second he lifts his hands away, you're already replacing your hand before finally freeing his cock. You're simultaneously impressed and intimidated by its size and girth. You ran your hand along the length, earning a small groan from Crowley and you can't help but wonder what it would feel like for him to be inside you.

“You'll find out soon enough,” he smirks, reading that one thought loud and clear.

You blush before grasping him firmly and he responds by returning his fingers to you, using one hand to work your clit and the other to dip in and out of you with experienced ease. His tie is barely holding in the noises you're making. His pressure is unrelenting and his pace is unforgiving.

You try to match his speed with your own movements and he seems to be struggling to keep himself quiet also. He pulls his fingers from you but keeps the rapid circles going as he cleans his fingers in front of you with his tongue.

“I wondered what you tasted like,” he says, his voice low and shaking with lust. “Divine.”

He pulls the tie out of your mouth slightly, resting it on your bottom lip before his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your face towards him.

“Are you mine, pet?” He rumbles.

“Yes,” you say, breathlessly and you can feel the crest building in your abdomen.

“Say it, kitten. I want to hear the words from your pretty mouth,” he growls as he jerks slightly against your pumping hand.

You press your lips hungrily to his and he eagerly reciprocates before you pull away, resting your head to his, “I'm yours, Crowley.”

He increases the movements of his fingers until they're relentless against your sensitive clit and you feel the wave of your orgasm slam into you. You would've cried out loudly had Crowley not swallowed your moans with his mouth. Your head falls to his shoulder as you shudder with the aftershock but you don't stop your ministrations on Crowley. You mimic his burst of speed, gripping more firmly until you start to feel him tense. He quickly pushes you backwards, leaning over you and grunting heavily as thick ropes of his cum fall onto your exposed stomach.

You let your hand fall away and just melt against the floor, your orgasm having stolen the last of your energy away. Crowley pants above you, admiring his handiwork.

“I must say, pet,” he starts with a slight laugh. “I'm glad you were persuasive.”

“Me too,” you smile.

Crowley gives you a long kiss, not a kiss of passion but one of affection before sitting back up and tucking himself away. You just lie there for a little while, feeling the heaviness of your limbs. Crowley lies down next to you, staring at the ceiling as you were doing.

“I'm eager for the day where I can properly make you mine,” he sighs. “When we don't have to sneak around in basements, or have stolen kisses in warehouses.”

“I'd like that too,” you admit.

“I am particularly fond of fine dining,” he continues. “What I wouldn't give to see you in an elegant gown. I bet you would look exquisite.”

“So make me a promise of that some day,” you say, turning your head to face him.

“Done,” he smirks.

“I'd best go,” you say quietly. “Don't want to tempt fate any more than I have done already.”

“Probably wise,” Crowley muses.

You take your t-shirt off, using it to clean up the mess on your abdomen before standing up. Crowley stands with you, curling one arm around your waist and using his hand to pull your chin up so he can kiss you a final time. You start to walk back up the stairs.

“Tabitha,” Crowley calls softly.

You turn around.

“It made me...happy that you called yourself mine,” he says a tad awkwardly, as if happiness were an unfamiliar feeling.

“I'm glad,” you smile. “Good night, Crowley.”

“Good night, kitten,” he responds.

With that, you sneak back out of the basement and into your room, locking your door behind you. You flop on the bed, completely drained. You don't even pull the covers over yourself. But...you're content and you're happy also.

Sleep comes easily to you that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I also say drink responsibly? Haha


	11. Broken Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Crowley to tag along on the hunt for the First Blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so quite a long chapter here! I gave you a surname just for kicks but your own first name is your own still.
> 
> Major angst, minor smut and well...you'll see!
> 
> (Apologies for any proofreading errors, I'm finishing this at 2am and my eyes are struggling to stay open!)
> 
> \- TLP x

You should have woken up ashamed, guilty even of your late night dalliance with the King of Hell but what you actually feel when you open your eyes is a sense of peace. For once you weren't waking up feeling tortured by your own emotions, for once things in the bunker were almost getting back to normal.

You spring out of bed, dressing yourself before almost bounding into the kitchen. Sam's at the table with his usual protein oatmeal and he gives you a completely confused look as you half skip in.

“Are you ok?” Sam asks.

“Yeah actually, I'm really good,” you smile.

“Wow, ok,” Sam laughs. “Guess Dean and I were really affecting you a lot then up until now.”

“Truthfully yes but you've sorted it out a bit so I feel a lot lighter so to speak,” you explain.

“Listen I'm still sorry about everything,” Sam says. “I think we forget there's more than just us in this family.”

“So I'm a Winchester now, hmm?” you tease.

“Tabitha Winchester...Tabs Winchester...nah, doesn't go, princess,” Dean says as he walks into the room and sits down heavily on a chair, crooking his feet onto the table. “You ever gonna tell us your actual last name by the way? I mean we heard your first name from your brother...”

“You want to know my surname?” you ask bemused.

“Sure, why not?” he shrugs. “You wanna know, Sammy?”

“It doesn't really matter, Dean,” Sam says with a quirked eyebrow.

“S'pose not,” Dean laughs. “Not like I use your actual name anyway. Your code name just works too damn well with the whole sexy British agent thing you got going on.”

“Sexy?” you smirk.

“Yeah don't let it go to your head, sweetheart,” Dean winks.

Sam just rolls his eyes and goes back to his breakfast.

“It's Hetherington,” you say, before grabbing yourself a drink.

“It's a-what now?” Dean blinks.

“My surname is Hetherington,” you repeat.

“Wow,” Dean says with a stupidly childish grin. “That's like so Downton Abbey.”

“You watch Downton Abbey?” Sam scoffs.

“Hey, Lord Grantham is awesome,” Dean shrugs. “You used to live in a mansion, Tabs?”

“No we lived in a town house near Notting Hill Gate before I moved into the Men of Letters campus,” you answer, feeling slightly amused at Dean's awe.

“Notting Hill, like the film right? Man you are so posh, I love it!” he exclaims before he gets up to go make himself food.

You sit down next to Sam and start whispering conspiratorially, “If you call posh having to share the house with my entire family to pay the bills then sure. I'm sure most people can only dream of sharing a bedroom with their grandmother.”

Sam snorts and half chokes on his oatmeal, “You could probably show Dean a ten pound note and he'd think he could buy a country with it.”

You laugh and Sam turns to you, smiling warmly.

“Good to see you smiling again, Tabitha,” he says.

“So,” you say, keen to deflect the conversation a bit. “What's the plan today?”

“I'll go check on Crowley after I've eaten, see if he's fully detoxed yet and then he says he's taking us to a black market dealer who knows where the blade is. You in on this?” Sam asks.

“Always,” you smirk. “Let's get this show back on the road.”

Sam finishes his meal and ushers you to follow him. You look back to see Dean's eating pie for breakfast...big surprise.

You both descend the steps and Crowley is patiently waiting, standing in the centre of the devil's trap with his hands neatly behind his back. You swear you see a fire flare in his eyes when he catches sight of you.

“What's the situation, Crowley?” Sam asks brusquely.

“Happy to report, Samantha, I'm my old self again,” Crowley answers, his voice back to its lilting honeyed gruffness.

“Yeah yeah, that's great,” Sam says nonchalantly. “So you're going to make good on your deal then?”

“Do you really think so little of me, Moose?” Crowley purrs. “I wasn't King of the Crossroads for a couple of centuries for nothing. I always keep my deals.”

“If you step out line, Crowley, I swear-” Sam starts.

“That'll you'll eviscerate me slowly and snuff out my existence, yes. We've done this dance many times,” Crowley interrupts, rolling his eyes and holding out the shackles.

Sam gives you a frustrated look and you just shrug back at him. Crowley was definitely back to his sarcastic and arrogant self. Sam walks over, unlocking the cuffs and they fall to the floor with a heavy thunk. Crowley massages his wrists before he clicks his fingers and his dishevelled appearance is instantly replaced with his usual impeccable dress sense. You catch the scent of fresh designer cologne.

“Much better,” Crowley smirks, shooting you a wink when Sam's attention is turned. You can't help but blush slightly which he definitely notices because you can hear his faint chuckle.

“Let's get this over with,” Sam sighs, walking back up the stairs.

You walk behind him and halfway up the steps, you feel the brush of Crowley's hand trailing down from your back, down to your thighs. You involuntarily shiver. For all his protests yesterday about trying not to get caught and being discreet, here he was blatantly touching you with Sam only two feet ahead. You look behind you and Crowley just gives you a wide smirk and a small shrug.

God this was going to be difficult keeping this secret.

You hit the kitchen again and Dean's finishing off his pie slice.

“All good?” he says through a mouthful of food.

You hear Crowley's low mutter behind you, “Neanderthal.”

You lightly step on Crowley's shoe behind you to shut him up, “Everything's peachy keen, Dean.”

“Heh, it rhymes,” Dean grins. “Let's get to the Impala.”

You all walk out of the bunker and you have a battle with Sam about who gets to sit in the passenger seat.

“Hey, hey,” Dean calls out of the window. “Lady Hetherington of Notting Hill, get in the front. You pick better tunes.”

“Sod off, Dean,” you say, poking your tongue out childishly and clambering in the car. “I'm not a lady.”

“Good to know,” Crowley purrs from the seat behind you. “I'm not a fan of women with airs and graces.”

“Can it, Crowley,” Dean hisses.

“On the other hand, it can be quite fun taking them down a peg or two,” Crowley muses.

“Do I have to hit you again?” you ask, turning round in the seat.

“Perhaps,” Crowley winks. “Although I'd prefer more restraints next time.”

“Eww,” Sam mutters. “Dean, just drive.”

The trip is awkward. You can feel Crowley's intense stare on you again and you try to push everything out of your mind. You know he can read everything you're thinking and you don't want to give him any more ammunition to tease you with whilst Sam and Dean are right next to you. You content yourself with turning the tape deck up full blast to the tune of Boston's _Peace of Mind._

When you finally reach this so called collector, it seemed you'd wasted your time. He didn't want to part with information on the First Blade and Dean messed up the plan to pretend to be buyers by whipping out the FBI badge. Dumb move. The collector started walking away and you panicked slightly. He didn't seem like the type of person to crack under the threat of violence.

A hand places itself on your shoulder and the roughness of heavy stubble grazes your ear, “I'll handle this, pet.”

Crowley pushes past you smoking out his vessel and forcibly enters the collector before you see that red smoke plume out of the man's mouth again and Crowley stands up next to you once more.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asks angrily.

“If you'll give me a minute, Squirrel,” Crowley says, brushing his suit off. “I just extracted the necessary information from him. He sold the blade to the Museum of National Antiquities in Missouri.”

“He...what?” Sam asks, bewildered.

“Well what are you standing there for, you cretins?” Crowley says in mild annoyance. “I got your information, let's mush now.”

“I shoulda let Tabs carrying on beating the crap outta you,” Dean mutters.

“If only he knew what else you did to me,” Crowley hums in a low whisper, directly to yourself.

Christ, he was relentless! You didn't know how much more of this allusion you could take. You had a sudden longing for the Crowley that was so vulnerable in the basement. At least he could keep his mouth shut. Crowley suddenly turns back to you and pouts slightly. Great, he must have heard that thought....

“You wanna come with us to the museum?” Dean asks as you clamber back into the car.

“Actually I think I'll do some research,” you say.

You feel quite keen to get away from this situation at the moment. You didn't expect Crowley to revert so heavily back to how he used to be and it was throwing your game off completely. Couple that with the added knowledge that he _had_ been intimate with you in some form and this was turning out to be a recipe for disaster.

“That would be really helpful,” Sam nods. “Once we get the blade we're going to need to figure out how it works.”

“Alright, I'll get on that,” you say.

“As for you,” Dean says, turning in his seat to face Crowley. “We got it from here. Thanks for the help.”

“A non-pleasure as always boys,” Crowley nods. “Keep me updated. I'm sure you'll be able to send me a Snapchat when you retrieve the blade.”

With a click of his fingers, he vanishes.

“Snapchat? What is he, a teenage girl?” Dean scoffs.

“I bet he loves the flower crown filter,” you joke.

Both brothers burst into laughter, the little bubble of tension vanishing. They drop you off at the bunker a little while later and say they'll keep you posted. You've managed to relax a lot on the ride back and you're feeling a little more at ease now.

The second you walk back into the war room, that completely changes. A hand shoots out, grabbing you by the waist and you're spun around. You see the mirthful face of Crowley as he holds out a champagne flute to you, filled with sparkling liquid.

“Drink, darling?” he purrs.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Being courteous,” he says simply.

“I mean what the bollocking hell was that about earlier? Are you trying to get found out by Sam and Dean?” you hiss.

“Not at all,” Crowley hums. “I just enjoy watching you squirm, kitten.”

“Funny because I seem to remember _you_ were squirming a lot last night,” you fire back.

“Touché, pet,” Crowley smirks.

“If you're going to come on these hunts with us you need to stop pushing the boundaries so much,” you say firmly with your arms folded. “I can't concentrate when you're doing stuff like that and you might get me killed.”

Crowley's eyes flare slightly before he drops his face to a more serious look, “I would never let any harm come to you, Tabitha, you know that. Very well, if the teasing is too much of a distraction I'll cease.”

“Thank you,” you sigh before grabbing the flute and draining the contents in one go. You could tell instantly that this was high quality champagne. “Are we celebrating something?”

Crowley produces his own glass and snaps his fingers to refill yours, “Merely that I'm free of chains once more and I had a beautiful woman on my lap a few hours ago. Certainly a better start to the week.”

He clinks his glass against yours before raising it to his lips and sipping it elegantly. You decide to dispense with elegance and neck the glass once more.

“So, Tabitha,” Crowley says, the predatory gleam returning to his eyes. “What should I do with a wayward hunter whilst they're all alone in a bunker?”

“Crowley,” you say in a slight warning. “It's not the time. I'm supposed to be relaying information back to Sam and Dean.”

Crowley advances upon you, forcing you to walk backwards until your legs hit the war room table. For a brief moment, you're afraid. The Crowley you'd bonded with was the Crowley that was addicted to human blood. The one standing in front of you now was the Crowley that had sought to dominate your very existence, who promised to take you on the throne of Hell. It'd been easy to keep the power struggle on an even playing field when he'd been in chains but you were totally at the disadvantage now.

He pauses mere inches away from you, his hungry gaze softening slightly, “You're afraid of me, pet?”

“Stop reading my thoughts,” you hiss.

“I didn't,” he answers simply. “It's written all over your face, no thought reading necessary. Why have I frightened you so?”

“I'm just...” you say before floundering slightly. “I'm not used to...”

He chuckles slightly and it's not a chuckle of mirth, it's one of affection, “You're not used to me as I usually am any more, are you?”

“No,” you admit.

Crowley sighs, looking at the floor before lifting his gaze back to you, “It's much the same, darling, only there's more innuendos. The things I've said in the last few weeks...remain, but they are only known between you and I. Wouldn't appear very favourable if the King of Hell were to seem....soft.”

“I get that,” you nod. “It's just going to take me a little time to readjust. It's kind of like you went from hero to villain overnight. No offence.”

“None taken,” he says courteously. “Hero, you say?”

“Well you have saved my life a few times now,” you smile. “And the Winchesters.”

“Hero...” Crowley rolls the word around his mouth for a time before chuckling. “Never thought someone would call me that in all my years of existence. Now, pet, tell me what I need to do to help you ease into this better. I don't wish for you to be....put off, so to speak.”

“I suppose you could make me a promise,” you say.

“I believe I've already made you two,” Crowley smirks. “Not to betray you and not to hurt you.”

“Well now you can make me three,” you say bravely.

“You're very demanding, kitten,” Crowley purrs. “Very well, what is this third promise?”

“Should Sam and Dean be in danger whilst you're with us, you'll help them as well. Not just me.”

“You're asking a lot there, darling,” Crowley says gruffly. “The Winchesters are already a stain on my reputation.”

“Well if you're the King of Hell why should you give a toss?” you challenge. “You run the show, right?”

Crowley looks at you surprised before murmuring, “I suppose you're right. I don't run a democracy. I'm not after votes. I'll honour your promise Tabitha but only in instances where I'm physically accompanying you all.”

“I'm happy with that,” you nod.

“Then may I?” Crowley gestures. “Because it's been driving me _insane_ being so close to you and not being able to touch you.”

“I'll think about it,” you say teasingly, adding a wink.

The growl of frustration that rips through Crowley's chest starts a familiar aching throb between your legs. He almost looks primal as he closes the distance, pushing you to sit on the table whilst his hand knots in your hair, keeping you still. His lips find yours in a bruising and passionate kiss and you eagerly reciprocate, even finding that you're wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

Crowley's hands are everywhere, grasping at your flesh, kneading sensitive areas and pulling against you. You can't help but let breathy moans sound out in between the messy kisses. As much as you hated to admit it right now, you liked Crowley taking the lead, rather than your own little display of dominance yesterday. He was meticulous in exploring your body, mapping out which areas made you gasp and which made you shiver.

“Perfection,” he rasps out as his fingers skip over your breasts, causing you to buck slightly against him.

Before you know it, you're falling onto the table, the discarded papers of Sam's research flying onto the floor. Crowley pushes you further into the centre before climbing on top of you. You register slightly that this is the worst damned place to be doing this right now. Anyone who entered the bunker had a clear line of sight to the table.

“Shhh,” Crowley says, head dipping to trace hungry bites across your collarbone. “Stop worrying about that, just enjoy it, kitten.”

His teeth sink in a little harder and you cry out, the pain mingling with the pleasure.

“Mmm, what a wonderful sound,” Crowley chuckles before his lips meet yours again.

You're completely beyond rational thought, your inhibitions stripped away. You just want him, right here, right now. Your thighs gently caress his sides as you writhe against him, desperate for the closeness.

“Tell me you want this, pet,” Crowley says in a ragged voice.

“Crowley,” is all you can croak out. Mentally you're screaming yes.

“I've waited for this for so long,” Crowley growls against your neck before moving to unbutton your jeans.

The sudden vibration and blaring ringtone from your phone causes you to jump as Night Ranger's – _Sister Christian_ reverberates around the War Room.

“Ignore it,” Crowley hisses almost imploringly.

“I can't,” you say, panting heavily. “They might be on the way back.”

“This is not making me hate the Winchesters any less, pet,” Crowley rumbles.

You disregard his comment and fish your phone out of your pocket. You know it's Sam from the custom ringtone.

“Hey, what's up, Sam?” you ask in your best clear voice.

“Hey Tabitha. The Museum was a bust. They sold the blade because they couldn't authenticate it,” you hear Sam's tired voice say.

“Did they say who they sold it to?” you ask and Crowley chooses that exact moment to grind slightly against you and you have to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the budding moan.

“They only gave us a first name. Magnus,” Sam explains.

“Wait, really?!” you burst out.

“Does that mean something to you?” Sam asks, the excitement returning to his voice.

“Yeah it does. I'll need to do a bit of checking but I think I know where to look next,” you say.

You can hear Sam relaying that to Dean who shouts, “Hell yeah, Tabs! Princess of research!”

“We're on our way back, want us to grab anything?” Sam asks.

You're about to answer when Crowley yanks up your shirt and mouths your breast through the lace fabric. Goddamn, why did he have to do that now?!

“I'm good, thanks,” you say in a slightly strangled voice.

“You ok?” Sam asks, slightly concerned.

“Yeah, just walked into the War Room table by accident,” you lie. “Sorry, I messed up your papers.”

“It's alright,” Sam says warmly. “We'll see you soon. Bye.”

“Bye,” you say hurriedly before Crowley can do anything else. “That was cruel, Crowley.”

Crowley just lifts his head up, chuckling darkly, “I told you I love watching you squirm kitten. I'm guessing our fun is over for the time being.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, and Crowley lifts off your body, extending his hand out to pull you up to a sitting position.

“I suppose I should be grateful in a manner,” Crowley muses, straightening his suit out. “The Winchester's bunker was not where I envisaged this taking place for the first time.”

“And yet it still almost happens,” you smirk, pulling your t-shirt back down and standing up.

“Well, if you will be so irresistible,” Crowley laughs. “Another time then, kitten. You'd best get on with proving the Winchesters have a combined IQ of three.”

“And what are you going to do?” you ask as you stoop to gather Sam's notes from the floor.

“Perhaps I can help,” Crowley offers. “I do have a few contacts should you need them.”

“Ok,” you smile. “Then help me.”

“Of course, darling,” Crowley says with a flourish.

You don't know exactly why you do it but you reach up, taking his cheek in your hand and kiss him lightly. Even he seems surprised by the action but you see the corners of his eyes crease in a genuine smile and his eyes twinkling gently.

You step away quickly, turning round with a slight cough before making off for the library. Did you really just treat Crowley like an actual boyfriend just then?!

“Kitten,” you hear that silky voice behind you. “Stop torturing yourself.”

“I thought I told you to stop doing that?” you say.

“You projected that thought loud and clear,” Crowley muses. “For what it's worth I don't consider you a mere lover, darling.”

You reach the library and turn around to stare him straight on, “So what do you consider me?”

“Now that would be telling,” he smirks.

“You don't play fair,” you scowl.

“Demon, love,” he reminds you.

“Fine, ok, just bring me the Men of Letter's charter from 1956,” you sigh and Crowley happily obliges.

 

 

 

You're deep into your research when Sam and Dean come back in the bunker. They walk into the library and do a double take seeing you and Crowley sat across from one another, drinking tea and flipping through old dusty tomes.

“I think we've come to the wrong bunker, Sammy,” Dean says with wide eyes. “She's domesticated him.”

“Will you bloody morons be quiet?” Crowley hisses. “You've spoiled the civilised atmosphere so either sit down or bore off.”

“You ok, Tabitha?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, fine, why?” you ask puzzled.

“No reason,” Sam says quickly before sitting down next to you. Dean sits next to Crowley, giving him a look like he's grown three heads. “So what does Magnus mean?”

“Magnus is an old codename that Men of Letter's agents use when we have to leave official documentation. I mean for the men at least. There weren't any females in the American order,” you explain. “We used to use 'Walter' back in the day.”

“So you're saying it may be a British agent?” Sam says puzzled.

“No, we all use our own individual code names now. I suspected that if someone is using Magnus then perhaps someone survived the 1956 massacre.”

“Wouldn't they be like...super old by now?” Dean says.

“Maybe,” you shrug “But I went through the manifest and I've just found out the Master of Spells during that year was exiled from the order for being reckless in his research.”

“Master of spells huh?” Sam muses. “It's a good possibility. What's his name?”

“Uh..” you say, running your hand down the page until you find the words you're looking for. “Cuthbert Sinclair.”

Crowley half slams his tea cup down, “Did you read that right?”

“I can read, Crowley,” you shoot back.

“I've tried to track him before, many years ago,” Crowley tells you. “He's the one who set up the warding on this funhouse. Thought perhaps I could get him to break it at the time.”

“Did you ever find him?” Sam asks.

“The spells I used, they pointed to a location but there was nothing there,” Crowley explains.

“Take us there,” Dean says gruffly. “I'm guessing you missed something.”

“Well I suppose it does help having a former Man of Letters this time,” Crowley purrs, nodding towards yourself.

“Just...get in the car,” you sigh. “We'll take both, just in case something goes wrong.”

“Good thinking, princess,” Dean nods. “Sammy, go with Tabs.”

You see the slight twitch of annoyance in Crowley's face for mere seconds before he erases it.

“Let's roll then,” you say to Sam.

You load up on weapons, spell ingredients, anything you can think of. If the old Master of Spells was indeed alive, he would be either very useful....or extremely dangerous. Years of training, years of crafting, could only have heightened his talents.

A slight knock at the door of your bedroom makes you jump and whirl around. Crowley is standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

“Apologies, pet,” he croons. “Didn't mean to frighten you. Just thought if we're splitting up like the most cliché horror film in existence, I should give you my number in case we get separated.”

“Ok,” you nod, holding out your phone to him.

He swiftly taps his number in before returning it with a wry smile.

“You did something, didn't you?” you ask suspiciously.

“You have a habit of choosing personal ringtones, darling. You'll just find mine amusing is all,” he smirks before he walks away.

Not a minute later you hear music coming from your pocket and you take it out to see the name **Not Lover** flash on the screen to the tune of Nine Inch Nails – _Sin_.

Oh Jesus Christ Crowley...

 

 

 

The drive is pretty smooth for once. Sam seems quite content to talk about normal topics rather than remark on Crowley's lack of lustful remarks back in the library. You drive deeper off the beaten track, going further into the woods until you see the Impala in front of you stop in a clearing.

“Guess we're here,” you say to Sam.

“Doesn't seem like there's anything there,” Sam muses, looking out of the windscreen.

“Well, let's go find out,” you say, unclipping the seatbelt and getting out of the car.

“Like I said,” you hear Crowley telling Dean. “Nothing here. So if he is hiding, he's warded up to the gills.”

“Well if he was a genius he's not going to be found by a bunch of demons,” Sam scoffs.

“No offence taken, Moose,” Crowley mutters darkly.

“Maybe he's watching,” Dean says. “Let's introduce ourselves.”

You, Sam and Dean walk into the centre of the clearing.

“Ahem,” Sam begins. “Cuthbert Sinclair...or Magnus, whatever you go by, we're Sam and Dean Winchester, Henry Winchester's grandsons.”

“We're Men of Letters ourselves,” Dean chips in. “And this is Tabitha from the British Men of Letters.”

“We read about your expulsion and we don't agree with it,” Sam says, trying to butter up the thin air in front of him. “Perhaps you could tell us your side of the story?”

There's a smoky haze that gathers on the leaf strewn floor that morphs and pulses into something resembling a doorway.

“Guess that's our cue,” you say, ushering the boys to go first. You felt like they should probably lead this one given you have no idea how relations with the American and British orders were in 1956.

The second you all walk through you're stood in the hallway of a lavish mansion with homely wood panelling and thick luscious red carpets. Expensive paintings don the walls and you see plinths proudly displaying objects and curios.

There's a growl that sounds round the corner and something humanoid barrels into you knocking you into the opposite wall and you slide down it to the floor.

“Vamps!” Dean cries and pulls out a machete.

In your daze you don't have time to reach for your own and the vampire bears down on you before you hear a sickly chopping sound and the monster's head just rolls off of its body. As the rest of the vampire collapses to the floor you see Crowley standing there, blade slick with blood. He gives you a curious smirk before extending a hand and pulling you up from the floor. Sam has finished the other vampire off and you turn to see Dean looking at you and Crowley strangely. You immediately feel embarrassed and pull your hand back.

“Kinda getting a bit close there, Crowley,” Dean warns.

“Apologies, I didn't realise I had to let her die,” Crowley says with his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Dean flusters, “Fine, fair point.”

“You need to be more careful, kitten,” Crowley whispers in your ear.

“Thanks for the assist,” you say out loud and Crowley nods courteously for effect.

“Bravo!” a voice crackles from a nearby speaker. “Well done!”

You feel a heady rush of vertigo as you're suddenly in an old fashioned drawing room. In fact, all of you are sat on a sofa. A man you can only assume to be Cuthbert Sinclair is pouring himself a drink from a decanter. He still looks young, like he'd not aged a day since he was exiled.

“Sorry for the theatrics, just wanted to see what you were made of,” the man says.

“Are you Cuthbert Sinclair?” Sam asks.

“Haven't gone by that moniker in fifty seven years,” he laughs. “I prefer Magnus.”

“You look good for a dude pushing ninety,” Dean says impressed.

“Thanks sport!” Magnus chirps. “You know, there's a spell for everything. You'd be amazed.”

“So listen,” Sam begins. “We've got a situation with Abaddon, the last Knight of Hell, she's trying to take over right now.”

“Ahhh,” Magnus sighs. “Never changes does it? You see, back in the day, I wanted to get rid of all the monsters but those squares just stamped on my creativity.”

“We heard you had the First Blade,” Sam presses.

“Oh my, you boys have done your homework but you should know it's useless without the mark,” Magnus says with a raised eyebrow. “I'm guessing this little lady was too much of a distraction for you to read up on that properly.”

“Excuse me?!” you cry out.

“Now now, sweetheart, no need to worry your pretty little head,” Magnus coos. “Let the men talk it out.”

Your blood is boiling right now. Master of Spells be damned, he was a sexist arsehole! Crowley senses your anger and places his hand secretively on your back, warning you to calm down.

Dean rolls up his sleeve to show the raised Mark of Cain and Magnus' eyes go wide.

“Now how about that,” Magnus breathes. “The Blade is right behind you gentlemen.”

You turn around and see the gnarled jawbone in a display case. Well that was embarrassing. None of you had even clocked it was there.

“Listen, just loan it to us and we'll give it back when we stop the bitch,” Dean implores.

“Let me think,” Magnus says, getting up and going over to a tray on a table before blowing green powder in your direction.

 

 

 

 

You're suddenly back in the clearing and Sam and Crowley are too. You look wide eyed at the two men.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Seems dear old Cuthbert is only interested in Dean,” Crowley says.

“We have to get back in there,” Sam hisses before running over to the Cortina and opening the trunk, searching through the files he'd brought with him. “There's got to be something in here.”

You peer over his shoulder, scanning the document yourself until you spot a particular line, “There! He wanted to originally make the bunker invisible to the outside world and only accessible with a spell. There was ingredients on one of the other pages that he was trying to patent.”

“Tell me what you need,” you hear Crowley from behind you.

“You wanna help all of a sudden?” Sam asks, bewildered.

“In case you haven't noticed, Moose, I've been helping for a while now,” Crowley glowers. “We're part of the same Kill Abaddon team. I may even get us matching t-shirts sometime.”

“Crowley,” you sigh. “Just get me what's on this list.” You hand it to him and he vanishes.

“So...he's been....friendlier,” Sam starts.

“Oh now? You're doing this now?” you say defensively.

“Hey I'm just wondering why he's being so nice all of a sudden. It's suspicious,” Sam says holding his hands up. “I mean the dude was literally all over you for weeks and now he's being respectful?”

“I may have told him I don't like forward men,” you say, thinking up the lie on the spot.

Sam laughs, despite the tense situation, “Well whatever you did, it's certainly easier to work with him now. He's actually being helpful.”

“Don't tell him that,” you snort. “You'll never hear the end of it.”

 

 

 

 

 

You wait for a time until Crowley returns, arms full of the necessary ingredients and Sam starts mixing the bowl up.

“I'm growing on you, aren't I?” Crowley chuckles, noticing Sam is more relaxed.

“Shut up,” Sam says, the pestle grinding down the last few bits. “I need to concentrate. Ingressum domi dona mihi.”

The same smokey door shimmers into view and you all race for it, throwing yourself out into the same hallway as before. Magnus is coming round the corner and Sam leaps behind him, pressing a knife to his throat.

“Take me to my brother,” he hisses before walking Magnus back into the drawing room.

You get a weird feeling that something's not right so you linger back.

“Something wrong, pet?” Crowley whispers.

“I just feel like something's off,” you whisper back. “I'll check on Sam, you use the other door and get Dean.”

“Get Dean?” Crowley sounded like you'd offered him rotten food.

“You promised,” you hiss.

“The love of a good woman will drive me insane,” Crowley mutters before he sneaks around to the opposite entrance.

You creep around, peeking around the doorway and see an unknown body on the floor. Well that wasn't good.

“I think you'd better get out here, little lady,” Magnus calls. “I know you're there.”

Damnit. You'd just have to go along with this for a little while until Crowley could help out on his end. You walk into the room with your hands raised in submission.

“There we go,” Magnus croons. You see he's pointing a gun at Sam and Dean's chained to a chair.

“Let them go,” you bark.

“Let go of the finest prize in my zoo?” Magnus scoffs. “No thanks but I will use you as a bargaining tool. See I think this kid is sweet on you so I imagine he'll co-operate...unless he wants something bad to happen to you.”

“Leave her alone,” Sam spits.

“I wouldn't harm her much,” Magnus smiles. “She can be part of my display. A Woman of Letters. What a modern era we live in.”

You hear the clank of chains as they fall to the floor and you see immediately that Dean is gone.

“What in the-” Magnus starts but he barely has time to finish before Dean slices his head off with the First Blade and he crumples to the floor.

At first you feel elation, you're glad Magnus is dead, that bastard definitely deserved it but then you notice Dean's shaking hand. In fact, you notice Dean's chest is heaving, like he's hyped up. You'd seen something like this before at the Academy when some of the agents would purposefully use steroids to gain the advantage in training. Oh god, this was definitely not good. The blade was starting to glow too.

“Dean?” Sam calls but Dean doesn't move.

“Dean!” Sam calls again.

“Hey you plaid wearing Yankee idiot, drop the blade!” you yell, trying to shock him back to his senses.

You see the spark of humanity flare back into Dean's eyes and he drops the blade with a great effort before almost curling in on himself. You let Sam take care of his brother whilst you grab the jawbone. It's almost odd how inert it is in your hands whilst it was so active in Dean's.

“Get him out to the car,” you tell Sam, who nods and leaves with his brother.

You look to Crowley who seems absolutely furious as he kicks the head of Magnus, sending it flying into an expensive vase, “Piece of human filth.”

“Woah, calm down,” you say.

“As if you are a _thing_ to be locked up and put on display,” Crowley hisses.

“It's done, ok?” you say soothingly. “He's an arsehole sure but he's a dead arsehole now.”

Crowley still looks incredibly angry so you purposefully grasp his chin to turn his gaze to you. You kiss him firmly until you can feel the tension leave his body.

“Better?” you ask as you pull away.

“Much,” Crowley admits, rolling his shoulders to ease the muscles. “Quite a magic touch you have there, darling.”

“I try,” you smirk. “Come on, let's get out of this Addam's family mansion.”

 

 

 

 

You meet Sam and Dean by the car and see their irate faces. Oh great, what now?

“They keyed her!” Dean yells. “They keyed my baby!”

“What?!” you cry, rushing over and seeing crude lines scratched into the Impala. “What the hell?! That's expensive bodywork!”

“I know, right?!” Dean exclaims. “They didn't touch your frickin' car but mine is fair game apparently.”

You shove the First Blade at Sam as you bend down, tracing the lines, trying to see how bad the damage was.

“It's Enochian,” Crowley says, coming to stand next to you and studying the key marks. “It says, 'Be Afraid – Your Queen'. This is a message for me. She's trying to say I'm not strong enough to defeat her.”

“So you're the reason my baby's been scratched?!” Dean roars.

“Dean!” Sam shouts. “Calm down! Look, you said Crowley was only useful until we had the blade. Now we have it.”

Your stomach drops. What exactly did they mean by that? Had they been talking in secret about this?!

“Sam, what are you saying?” you ask, trying your best to steady your voice.

“They're saying I'm no longer needed alive,” Crowley finishes and with a flick of his wrist the two brothers are pinned against the car. “Sorry boys, it occurs to me that if Abaddon is on your list than I am too.”

“Damn right you are,” Dean snarls.

“So I'll be taking the blade,” Crowley says quietly.

“It's useless to you without me,” Dean hisses.

“Yes but then you're also useless without it. I'll hang onto it until such time as Abaddon can be taken down. It's a shame, boys, I really was for trusting you here but you've shown you can't be trusted yourselves.”

Crowley starts walking towards Sam and plucks the First Blade from his grasp.

“Stop it, all of you!” you shout. “Why can't you just bloody co-operate without backstabbing each other every five minutes?!”

“They started it, pet,” Crowley says, glowering at the brothers.

“I don't care who started it,” you admonish. “We're supposed to be on a shared mission to take down Abaddon, not bicker amongst ourselves.”

“Tabs!” Dean barks out. “Take the damn blade from him!”

“Why don't you try shutting up for a change?” you hiss and Dean's face immediately falls. “We could have just carried on using our shared resources and found Abaddon quicker.”

“So you're choosing him, huh?” Dean mutters quietly.

“Be very careful what you say to me next, Dean,” you growl in warning.

“What am I supposed to think, Tabs? You're not stopping Crowley right now!”

You let out a howl of frustration that shocks even the demon standing next to you, “God will you just put on your big boy pants for a second and think! Crowley's a useful ally right now and you both just broke that alliance!”

“Tabitha's right,” Crowley adds. “I was very willing to give you every tool at my disposal. I'm not a moron, Dean, I know once Abaddon is gone, I'm fair game again but you've just exhausted all my good will.”

“Ok ok,” Sam says trying to smooth things over. “We're sorry, ok. It's just hunter instinct kicking in. No hard feelings.”

“I can't trust you, boys,” Crowley says shaking his head. “But I can trust her. So I'll be leaving with the blade now and I'll ring Tabitha with its location when the time is right.”

With that, he vanishes and the brothers fall to the floor now the unseen force has disappeared.

“That dickbag!” Dean roars, before he clambers to his feet, rushing for you.

You don't have time to get out of his stampeding path and he pushes you against the side of the Impala, hands fisted in your t-shirt.

“Dean!” Sam calls out in alarm.

“She's a traitor, Sammy,” Dean hisses directly into your face.

“She's just trying to be smart about it!” Sam shouts. “Let her go!”

“Did you let him touch you, huh, Tabs?” Dean says with an expression of utter disgust. “Is that why you're selling us out for him? Why you let him escape with the blade?”

“That was your own bloody stupidity that did that,” you spit back. “And how dare you say that to me!”

“Nothing but a goddamn English turncoat,” Dean sneers.

You lose it. Everything about Dean's reaction is so extreme. You can't work out if he's genuinely feeling this way or if he's under the influence of the First Blade still but you won't be spoken to like that. You punch him square in the face and he goes reeling backwards onto the mossy ground, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You find your own damn method of locating Abaddon,” you say, your voice trembling with rage. “Because I'm out. I'm done.”

You stride over to your car, ignoring Sam's pleading calls to you and fire up the engine, peeling out of the clearing and down the dirt road. You hadn't noticed it before but tears are streaming down your cheeks. You felt angry, you felt betrayed.

The Winchesters hadn't seen fit to let you in on this change of heart over the alliance with Crowley and it'd turned into a massive shitshow. God, why were they such arses?! It was just common sense to continue to work together until Crowley was reinstated on the throne and even after that, Metatron should be the priority as well as returning the angels to heaven.

You bang on the steering wheel in frustration. This was just a mess.

You reach the bunker, ignoring your phone which is ringing for the umpteenth time. Sam's been desperately trying to reach you since you left.

You gather a duffle bag, slamming some items into it and make a hasty exit, getting back in the car and driving away before the brothers had a chance to catch up.

You pull into a layby and take out your phone, cancelling yet another call from Sam and punching in a different number.

 

**Not Lover calling...**

 

“Crowley?” you say as the line connects.

“Kitten, I'm not coming back if that's what you're asking. I don't wish to be skewered.”

“I'm not asking that,” you say quietly.

“What's wrong?” Crowley asks, sensing the hurt in your voice.

“Can you please...can you come get me?” you ask. “I don't know if you have a place nearby or something but I just need to get away.”

“Of course, darling,” he says, only the voice is coming from next to you now in the passenger seat.

Crowley takes in your dishevelled state, the tear tracks on your face and his breath hitches, “Did they do something to you?”

“I'm not talking about it,” you sniff. “I just want to go.”

“Alright, pet. Start the engine, I'll direct you.”

With that, you both drive off down the country road.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should change the tag to 'Dean can be a MAJOR dick sometimes'.


	12. Hideaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've run away from the Winchesters and Crowley is here to help you hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a little while to get this out, I'm back at work doing long shifts now so it'll be a little irregular!
> 
> Thanks for the the kudos and the lovely comments so far! I'm really enjoying hearing what you think :).
> 
> Warnings: Angst, moderate smut.
> 
> -TLP x
> 
> (Also if there are any proofreading errors, it's almost 2am and I'm goosed. I literally can't go over this any more trying to find mistakes!)

 

“Malcolm, the usual,” Crowley says, directing you through the hotel lobby.

The clerk throws him a set of keys and he catches them deftly, twirling them around his finger by the loop.

You look around as you walk in. Man, you feel really out of place. This is easily a five star hotel and here is your little hunter arse in jeans and a jumper with tear marks still on your face. You bow your head, desperate to not be noticed.

“Own it, darling,” Crowley purrs, looking back at you when you reach the elevator. “Rich people can smell fear. Look like you belong and you will belong.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble.

The elevator door opens and you both step inside. You sling the duffle bag down to the floor and lean with a heavy sigh against the wall.

“Life has not been handed to me on a plate, pet,” he reminds you with a slight smirk. “My human life had more poverty than yours does. You just learn to rise above it.”

“I don't imagine you thought you'd be the King of Hell someday when you were alive,” you mused.

“Not really,” Crowley chuckles. “All I aspired to be back then was the stud of the village.”

“A noble aspiration,” you joke, trying to lighten your mood.

“I thought so too,” he smirks.

The elevator opens and you pick the bag back up before Crowley unlocks the one and only door ahead of you. He pushes the door open with a dramatic gesture.

“Welcome to the penthouse, kitten. You can hide up here for as long as you like.”

You step in and you instantly feel small. There's so much opulence in this place, more than you've ever encountered before. Sure you'd stayed in a four star once on one particular case for the Men of Letters but the difference was just astonishing.

“I see you approve,” Crowley chuckles.

“Bloody hell,” you whisper.

“Much nicer than Hell, love,” Crowley quips before taking your bag from your hand and going over the bed, placing it down on the soft mattress. “Now are you going to tell me what Dumb and Dumber did to make you flee?”

“I think that was self evident,” you say a little harshly.

“To a point, yes, but I get the sense something happened after my timely departure,” Crowley says, studying you.

You sigh. You didn't really want this conversation right now. “Just...just let me clean up and I'll tell you after, ok?”

“Of course,” he nods courteously.

You scurry off to the bathroom and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Oh wow, you looked a state. You turned the tap on, collecting some water in your hands before throwing it over your face. That felt a little better. You tried to sort out your wayward hair, your running make up and eventually you got back to some kind of normality.

Your phone buzzed once again and you jumped slightly at the sudden vibration. You pulled it out.

Oh Christ, you had a lot of missed calls and messages!

  


**37 Missed Calls**

**9 New Messages**

  


You ignore the call log, only opening the texts you'd received.

  


**Sam: Where are you?  
** **Sam: Please pick up**  
 **Sam: Tabitha, please pick up**  
 **Sam: I'm worried about you. Please let me know you're alright**  
 **Sam: We just got back and you're not here. Where are you?**  
 **Sam: I went in your room. Your stuff is gone. Are you leaving us?**  
 **Sam: Tabitha, please talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.**  
 **Sam: I just want to know you're safe.**

  


Eight messages so far from Sam. You felt kind of sorry for him. He'd just got caught in the crossfire of yours and Dean's epic row.

You flick to the last message and all your emotions go haywire.

  


**Dean: I'm sorry**

  


Whilst you know it takes a lot for Dean to apologise, you're still absolutely furious with him. He could never unsay the things he did to you and you could never unsee the look of disgust on his face as he spoke those words.

You hear a knock at the door, “Everything alright, darling?”

“Fine,” you say quickly, turning the phone off and shoving it back in your pocket.

You open the door and Crowley is stood with his hand on the doorframe. He looks mildly surprised to see you come out so quickly. He lifts his hand to your cheek, stroking it gently.

“Come on, pet. Let's sit down and talk.”

“For a demon, you're awfully chatty,” you laugh softly.

“Must be the effect you have on me,” he says with a slight mirthful expression. “I'm usually quite succinct in what I say.”

“Oh I'm sure,” you tease. “'Kill them', 'torture him', 'flay her', must be a cacophony of speeches.”

Crowley comes up close to you, so close your lips are practically touching, “Are you mocking me, kitten?”

“I am,” you say, the challenge creeping into your voice.

“Mmm, I do love a women with fire,” he purrs, letting his mouth ghost over yours for a brief second. “But you're avoiding the subject, so sit.”

He pushes you lightly backwards and you stumble into the plush corner sofa, falling on it with a heavy 'oof'. He sits with elegant grace next to you, crooking one leg over the other and resting his arms over the back of the sofa.

“That was cheap,” you say sourly.

“Nothing about me is cheap, darling,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

You sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions, “I'm going to need a drink before I start talking.”

“Very well,” Crowley murmurs, reaching over and grabbing one of the hotel phones, ordering something from the bar downstairs. “It's on the way.”

Not five minutes later there's a knock at the door and Crowley is soon returning with a large bottle and two tumblers. He deftly sets them down in front of you, uncorking the bottle and pouring two glasses.

“You shared your favourite whiskey with me, I'm sharing mine with you,” he says simply, pushing the glass towards you. “That's Craig, aged thirty years. Try not to drink it like an American fratboy like you did with my less expensive whiskey that time.”

“I'm mildly offended,” you say, taking the tumbler and inhaling the scent.

You had to admit, it smelled good. There was a definite oakiness to the aroma. You swirled it once, letting the flavour come out more before taking a sip.

“If you're only mildly offended, I'm not doing my job properly,” Crowley chuckles before taking a swig himself.

“This is good,” you say, nodding your head in appreciation. “I like it.”

“You know what I would like?” Crowley asks, his body coming closer to yours and his voice dropping to a low husk.

“What?” you reply, a little dazed at the sudden change of tone.

“I'd like you to stop avoiding telling me what happened,” he says quite seriously.

“Why do you care so much?” you shoot back, feeling a little cornered.

“Have you not worked it out by now, kitten?” Crowley says almost chidingly. “You're a smart girl, I'm sure I don't have to spell it out.”

“Fine,” you huff. “I think whatever Cuthbert Sinclair did to Dean it had lasting effects because he completely flipped out when you vanished.”

Crowley's eyes darken slightly and he's suddenly right next to you, searching your face, “If Dean Winchester hurt you-”

“He didn't hurt me,” you interject. “He grabbed me, yelled at me a bunch and I socked him in the face and left. That's all there is to it.”

“As much as I'd love to dwell on the image of you punching that overgrown ape, I sense Dean said something which upset you, love,” Crowley presses.

You take a long drink, feeling the burn down your throat and the spreading warmth, “He called me a traitor. Wasn't so much the words, it was his expression.”

“He called you a traitor, because of me?” Crowley asks.

“Yeah,” you answer curtly.

Crowley growls slightly, taking your hand and squeezing it possessively, “And you really want me to not rip the little toerag limb from-”

“Crowley, please, not now,” you hush him. “I'm not in the mood for 'I told you so's'.”

“The Winchester honeymoon phase is over I take it then?” he says, trying to restrain his anger.

“I just don't know,” you sigh. “I don't know what to do. Sam's been trying to reach me the whole time I've been travelling here and Dean's just texted me an apology.”

“Do you want to go back?” Crowley asks, with a slight tone of hurt in his voice.

“No,” you answer truthfully. “Not right now anyways. I need space, from both of them. I've just felt so bogged down in all their drama lately, I need a breather.”

“I'll look after you,” Crowley murmurs, stroking your hair.

You let your head sink onto his shoulder, “Thank you. I think I just need some rest.”

“Then may I suggest you get in bed?” Crowley says. “And not in the carnal sense. I know, shocking coming from me but I think you need some sleep, pet.”

“I think that's a good idea,” you nod, getting up and going over to the huge bed.

“Perhaps I can be so bold, Tabitha,” Crowley asks, holding up his hands in a pre-snap position, waiting for your approval.

“Go on then,” you smile slightly.

Click!

You're instantly in pyjamas, only they're not the ones you packed. They're extremely soft and fluffy, cosy and warm.

“Something a little more comforting than shorts and a band t-shirt,” Crowley smirks. “Hop in, darling. I'll let you sleep. I have some business to attend to but I'll wake you when I get back.”

You crawl into the bed and fling the duvet over yourself. Wow this had to be the softest mattress you'd ever been on! You instantly start to feel tired as you settle in.

“Promise me something,” you say, stifling a yawn. “Don't go after the Winchesters. It's just hot air, it'll blow over.”

You see Crowley fighting with himself and know that's exactly what he was planning on doing after you fell asleep. He lets his shoulders drop and sighs heavily.

“I can sweeten the deal for you?” you suggest, coaxing him over with a crooked finger.

He looks at you for a moment before coming to the edge of the bed. You grab his tie, pulling him down towards you and capture his lips with your own. The kiss he gives you is anything but sweet, it's possessive, it's claiming. You let his will dominate yours and he takes what he needs from you, that reassurance that you're not doubting your budding relationship with him. He breaks away with some reluctance.

“You do make a persuasive argument, pet,” he purrs. “Fine, but on the condition that you rest now.”

You shuffle into the mattress further, “I don't think that'll be a problem.”

“Good girl,” Crowley smiles. “I'll be back presently.”

He vanishes.

You decide to check your phone one last time before going to sleep. As you switch it on, the phone vibrates for about thirty seconds as constant notifications come through.

  


**8 Missed Calls**   
**3 New Messages**   
**1 Voicemail**

 

You look at the texts again.

  
  
**Sam: Tabitha, it's been hours. Call us.  
** **Sam: I know you're mad but please, don't shut me out.**  
 **Sam: Please**

  


Again you feel that pang in your chest, knowing you were making the big galoot worry but you just had to get away. They were suffocating you right now with their family issues and the Mark of Cain was having a way worse effect on Dean than he was admitting to.

You hover over the voicemail button for a time, not sure if you wanted to actually hear it. Eventually you cave.

  
  
**Message 1 – 16:48**  
“ _Tabs, it's Dean...listen I...ahhh...look I'm sorry. I know that probably won't mean jack right now after what I said but I really do mean it...I just...ah man, I don't even know where to begin....what I said to you, I didn't mean it, I didn't believe it....I was just lashing out and I did it to the one person who actually gives a crap about me who doesn't technically have to.....I just...I saw you with Crowley, the way he was with you and I was afraid......I was afraid of losing you.....well, guess I lost you now, huh? Tabs...please...come home...we....I....I miss you._ ”

  


Oh Jesus Christ, he knew how to tug on your heartstrings. You lay there for a while in the soft pillows, debating about whether to reply. Both brothers seemed to be remorseful about what happened so that was good at least but there was a lot of underlying hurt you didn't think you could easily forgive.

You eventually settle on sending a text to the both of them.

  
  
**Tabitha: I'm fine. I need space. I'll call you when I'm ready to.**

  


You're about to turn it off again when a text pretty much immediately comes through.

  
  
**Sam: Glad you're ok. I understand.**

  
  
You sigh, shutting the phone off before any more messages can come through. You feel like you've got a heavy tension headache coming on and you didn't need to look at that screen any more. You snuggle yourself under the duvet, feeling the warm cocoon envelop you and you slowly drift off into a peaceful nap.

  
  
**

  
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean growls viciously, staring at Crowley as he appeared in the bar next to him.

“You called _me_ , Dean,” Crowley reminds him. “So as long as I'm here, any progress with Carrot Top?”

“I'm...on it,” Dean says unconvincingly.

“Clearly,” Crowley says with a raised eyebrow.

“Is she with you?” Dean grunts, not looking in Crowley's direction.

“Who? Abaddon?” Crowley says confused.

“You know who I mean,” Dean spits, downing the dregs of his beer in one gulp.

“Afraid you'll have to be more specific,” Crowley purrs, sitting down on the next barstool.

“Tabs...Tabitha,” Dean presses. “Is she with you?”

“I'm here with you, Dean,” Crowley scoffs. “I'm unlikely to have her stashed in my coat pocket.”

“She just took off,” Dean says in almost a whisper.

Crowley heavily resists the urge to point out that that was entirely Dean's fault. If he annoyed the temper stricken hunter, he could be sure it would wing its way back to you somehow and you'd know he'd broken his promise to stay away.

“Perhaps I can look for her,” Crowley offers with an impassive face.

“She doesn't want to be found,” Dean says firmly. “She made that clear.”

“Look Dean, I don't wish to be overstepping my boundaries here but something is very off with you right now,” Crowley muses. “You call me but you hang up, you want Abaddon and then you lose interest, you want the First Blade and then you don't want the Blade. You're stalling, but I can't quite figure out why.”

“Shut up Crowley,” Dean hisses. “Go to hell.”

“Would if I could,” Crowley chuckles. “You know what I think? I think you're afraid.”

“Afraid, really?” Dean scoffs.

“Don't try to scam a scam artist. I see it written all over your face,” Crowley points out. “Something happened, didn't it, between you and Tabitha?”

“None of your goddamn business,” Dean spits, a little angrier than normal.

“That's quite a reaction, Dean,” Crowley smirks. “I'd say I hit a nerve there.”

Dean pulls up his sleeve to expose the raised mark and rubs at it as if he believed he could wipe it away, “Eat me, Crowley.”

“I don't reckon I would enjoy the taste,” Crowley says sarcastically. “So that's why little miss Lara Croft has gone missing then. You enjoyed the touch of the Blade too much, hmm? Did you hurt her?”

Dean's shoulders are tenser than Crowley's ever seen them. He knew he was pushing the man to his limits but he wanted to hear exactly what had happened to upset you so much.

“I...I didn't mean to,” Dean says in a shaking voice. “You left us high and dry-”

“After you threatened to kill me,” Crowley interjects.

“And I was just so pissed,” Dean continues, ignoring Crowley's comment. “It's like I couldn't stop myself. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have and I physically hurt her. The Blade...yeah you're right, it does scare me because if I can do that to someone I care about, someone that I love, what else am I going to be capable of, huh?”

Crowley bristled on hearing the word 'love'. He sincerely hoped Dean meant in a platonic family way. The bubbles of jealousy were starting to form in his stomach and he tried to quash them as best as he could. He needed Dean, needed him to take out Abaddon and reclaim the throne of Hell. He could deal with the hunter after that. Nobody was taking you away from him, least of all Dean Winchester.

“You're going to be capable of killing the last Knight of Hell,” Crowley answered. “Because the sooner you do, the sooner you can remove the Mark and keep your little dysfunctional transatlantic family safe.”

Dean sighs, looking into the bottom of the beer bottle for the longest time, “You're right. This is the one shot we've got at killing Abaddon. Fear doesn't mean squat. I gotta do this.”

“So the plan remains the same?” Crowley asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“I find Abaddon, you bring the Blade,” Dean confirms.

“It's a date,” Crowley chuckles.

Dean gets off the barstool and starts walking towards the door but he pauses for a second, turning around, “Crowley, if you can, find Tabs. Tell her...tell her to come home, her family's waiting.”

“I'll look for her when I can,” Crowley tells him.

With that Dean leaves the bar.

Crowley leaves himself soon after, appearing back in the penthouse suite. He watches your sleeping form quietly for a while, taking in the sweetness of your face. In your deep slumber you didn't carry the lines of worry on your forehead, the weary expression in your eyes, the hard set of your anxious mouth. No...you were beautiful, but of all the states to see you in, Crowley loved when you genuinely smiled. It was an addictive sight.

You stirred slightly, moving position to rest on your side, your hair splayed over your face. Crowley moved quietly to the side of the bed, brushing back the strands and letting his fingers travel slowly down your cheek. You shivered a little and he withdrew his hand quickly, keen not to wake you.

He went to the other side of the bed, slipping his overcoat and suit jacket off with deft movements and setting them over a chair before kicking off his shiny brogues. With almost silent motions, he crept into the bed, ensconcing himself under the duvet and wraps his arm around your body, pulling himself flush to you.

“My Tabitha,” he whispers into your hair.

  


**

  
  
You wake up to strong arms around you and you're momentarily confused. You jerk upwards, looking around in panic at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Hush pet, it's alright,” the voice of Crowley sounds out from next to you.

You snap your head to the direction of the voice and see him lying fully clothed underneath the sheets.

“What are you doing?” you ask, a little bewildered.

“Honestly, darling, what does it look like?” Crowley smirks. “I'm being the big spoon.”

“You were...cuddling me?” you say, completely bemused by the whole thing.

“Bonus points for Tabitha,” Crowley chuckles. “Now lie back down, I wasn't quite finished.”

“I didn't realise you had a time quota for cuddles,” you sass.

Crowley rolls his eyes and reaches for you, pulling you back into his embrace. It feels oddly...safe. You can't really describe it any other way. His warmth, his presence, they just exuded an air of protection.

“You really need to think more quietly, kitten,” Crowley says into your ear. “You practically screamed that thought at me.”

“What thought?” you stutter, embarrassed.

“I believe the words I caught were 'safe' and 'protection',” he laughs.

“Oh god,” you groan, feeling yourself flushing red.

“Now, none of that, pet. Don't bring him upstairs into it,” Crowley purrs. “There's nothing wrong with feeling safe with me. You know I wouldn't harm you.”

“It's just an odd feeling,” you admit. “Feeling comfortable around a demon.”

“I understand,” Crowley says. “It's unusual for me also feeling protective over a human. Technically, I suppose, I should be trying to claim your immortal soul, not trying to save it.”

“I think you did actually try to claim my soul in the beginning,” you tease. “Or at least trap me in Hell.”

Crowley laughs and you feel the rumble echo through his chest and vibrate against your back, “I still intend to keep that promise to you someday, Tabitha. I hope you remember that.”

Your mind starts whirring at a thousand miles an hour. Did he mean...no surely not...did he actually mean he still intended to take you on the throne of Hell?!

“Yes, pet, I do,” he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck and you feel the soft scratch of his beard on your skin. “I imagine you'll look magnificent.”

“Errr,” you say, unsure of how to respond.

“Don't worry, darling, I'll seal the throne room off....unless of course you're into being watched. I'm not one to judge,” he says, lightly nipping at your shoulder.

You're pretty sure you're bright red by now. You're not a prude and you've done some risqué things in your time but the way Crowley phrased things made you feel like a naïve innocent young girl again.

“You're very enticing when you're embarrassed,” Crowley chuckles, letting his mouth drift to your ear and you feel the warm breath bathing your skin. “I wonder how far the flush creeps down your body....is it just to your neck, or much lower?”

Without warning he spins you onto your back and you're staring directly into those deep dark eyes.

“Crowley,” you start, not entirely knowing where you're going with this.

The King of Hell sighs heavily, “I know pet, your mind isn't in it and I wouldn't want you to do this without giving me your full attention.”

You feel mildly guilty, “Sorry, I just...”

“The Winchesters,” Crowley finishes nodding. “Dean rang me whilst I was out. He told me to find you and bring you back to the bunker.”

“So first he tries to kill you, then he asks favours?” you huff. “He's got some nerve.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Crowley muses. “But from what I can gather, the Blade is influencing his rage. He did seem...apologetic, as much as that overgrown gorilla can.”

You mull it over for a while. If Dean was actively trying to find you and apologising via voicemail, maybe it _was_ just something to do with the Blade, maybe he wasn't specifically mad at you.

“Do you want me to return you, darling?” Crowley asks for the second time that day.

“Trying to get rid of me?” you smirk.

“Never,” Crowley purrs, letting his hand trail over your stomach. “If I thought you would acquiesce I'd keep you up here for a long time, I'm sure I would manage to entertain you somehow.”

“I'm sure you would,” you laugh. “I'm not ready to go back still. Frankly, I want them to sweat it out a bit longer, petty as it may be.”

“Remember who you're talking to, love,” Crowley chuckles.

“Oh right, yeah,” you half giggle. “I suppose that's like a nun thinking she's hardcore for kissing someone.”

“Interesting turn of phrase,” Crowley smirks. “So, Tabitha, what shall we do until I have to entrust you to the Scooby gang again?”

You reach up, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “I'm sure we'll think of something.”

You move to lie back down but his hand snakes under your head, pulling you back to him. His tongue slips into your mouth, languidly seeking yours and you melt under his expertise. You can feel the slight smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he notices your complete compliance.

“I find it hard to tear myself away from you, kitten,” he rasps in that deep husky voice. “Perhaps you were my true addiction all along.”

Something about the way he says it pushes all your melancholy thoughts to the farthest reaches of your mind. Even your guilty thoughts, the ones where you feel you're still betraying the hunter code take a backseat. There's only warmth left, the warmth of affection. You're entirely sure Crowley is catching that emotion because he seems surprised for a second before he regathers himself and kisses you chastely on the forehead.

“For all your fire, darling, you can be a sweet little thing at times, can't you?” he hums.

“It happens occasionally,” you smirk, letting your hand fiddle with his tie.

“A perfect balance,” he chuckles. “Raw primal emotion and sweet innocence.”

“Innocence?” you scoff.

“Oh?” Crowley says in mild amusement, dipping his head to your ear. “Are you not innocent, pet?”

Your emboldened response is to drag your hand from his tie, down his shirt and stopping just south of his belt buckle, “What do you think?”

“I think,” Crowley starts, pushing your hand away and pinning it to the bed, “Especially after your little display in the basement, that you hold a great many secrets about your past sexual history....all of which I am dying to know...and experience.”

“You want to know who I've slept with?” you ask, confused.

“No no no, darling, I want to know the manner in which you slept with them,” he laughs.

You can't help but blush again. This was ridiculous! How did he manage to make you feel so embarrassed over this? Sexual conquests were a regular table talking point in the Men of Letters Academy in Cambridge and yet here you were, unable to articulate anything.

“Mmm, I really need to find out about your blushing, Tabitha,” he purrs. “The question is driving me wild.”

With one deft snap of his fingers your pyjama top is completely gone, leaving you in your bra, your torso completed exposed to him. You hear his amused chuckle.

“My my, so it does go down to your chest,” he says. “Magnificent.”

“That's cheating,” you huff, trying to cross your free arm over your breasts.

“I'm the King of Hell, love,” Crowley laughs. “What did you expect, really?”

He takes your free hand and pins that against the bed also before he lowers his mouth to your shoulder, hungrily kissing along the line of your collarbone and up under your neck. He rests his teeth slightly against your throat and you let out a small whimper before his attention drops to your breasts. You feel the scratch of his beard as he makes a meticulous path, not allowing any skin to escape his wandering mouth.

“May I be so bold?” he rasps, gesturing to your bra.

You can't actually form words any more. Your brain is completely focused on what he's doing. You just nod dumbly and he lifts one hand from your wrist to click his fingers again. You feel the chill as you're left without a scrap of fabric to cover your torso.

His hands leave your wrists as he grips your waist, stopping you from wriggling as his tongue finds your nipple, swirling delicate patterns around it. Your hands dig into the sheets as you feel the heavy throb of arousal start to build in your body.

“Much better doing this without the lace this time,” he chuckles and you feel his hot breath blossom over your chilled skin.

“Tease,” you hiss as he skates around your other nipple, barely touching with his fingers.

“We have all the time in the world, darling,” he says. “I intend to make the most of it.”

“But-” you say in a small whine.

“Patience,” he says firmly.

Crowley kisses a line down your stomach and you twitch slightly as he catches a sensitive ticklish spot. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, tugging them down and off your legs before he pauses over your underwear.

“Still want me to continue, pet?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say hurriedly and he hums his amusement at your impatience.

He pulls your underwear off leaving you completely naked before him. He seems to study every inch of you for a time.

“You're a work of art, Tabitha,” he purrs. “Truly sublime.”

You've heard a lot of cheesy lines in your time similar to that but coming from Crowley you really felt he meant it.

“It's a little unfair though,” you point out. “I have no clothes and you're fully dressed.”

“Oh no,” Crowley pouts in jest. “However will I make it up to you? I know....”

With no prior warning he digs his hands underneath your thighs, pulling them apart and his mouth is on you, tongue lapping a bold line up your folds.

“Fuck!” you cry out in surprise, bucking slightly.

“Such language,” Crowley chides with a mischievous glitter to his eyes. “I'd love to hear more of it.”

He doesn't give you a chance to reply, setting a strong pace with his tongue as it circles your clit with complete mastery. Damn, did Crowley know exactly what he was doing! You're a writhing mess beneath his relentless mouth and moans tumble effortlessly from your lips as you grasp the bedsheets for dear life. He eases a crooked finger into you, deftly sliding it in and out as he adds to the overwhelming pleasure he's causing.

You feel that familiar pressure starting in your abdomen already. Crowley was picking up the speed to an even more intense pace whilst holding you still with one hand.

“Crowley..I...” you gasp.

Crowley pauses briefly to let out a low rumble, “Scream for me, darling,” before resuming his punishing tempo.

You can't hold it back any longer. The waves of your orgasm crash through your body, sending you writhing and you cry out in ecstasy, your back arching.

Crowley finally stops and after you're able to regain your senses, you look down to see him with the biggest smirk on his face.

“I take it we enjoyed that, hmm?” he chuckles.

“I didn't know I could finish so quickly,” you half giggle, the endorphins still rushing around in your brain and your body still spasming lightly.

“And I didn't realise you made such wonderful noises,” Crowley laughs, the sound hoarse and lustful. “I can't wait to hear the ones you'll make next.”

He crawls up your spent body, dragging you into a fervent kiss. You surprise him when you slip your tongue into his mouth, sharing the taste of yourself.

“My my,” he murmurs. “Aren't we adventurous?”

“You have no idea,” you say, the challenge evident in your voice.

“I'm about to find out,” Crowley growls, snapping his fingers and his shirt completely vanishes.

You waste no time running your hands up his bare chest, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. He groans slightly and it's the most primal sound you've heard.

You reach up, your hand hooking behind his neck and pull him down to you, urgently kissing him and you move together, pressing your bodies against each other. You hear the clink of Crowley's belt buckle being unlatched and you run your hands over his straining trousers.

“Tabitha I-” a low voice sounds out in the room.

You half scream, wrenching the duvet from nearby and throwing it over yourself and Crowley before rolling out from under the demon.

“Oh...I'm...interrupting,” says the deadpan voice of Castiel.

You glare at the angel who has the good grace to look embarrassed and he averts his gaze to the wall next to him.

“What are you doing?!” you yell.

“The Winchesters, they asked me to look for you so I tracked you,” Castiel explains. “I didn't realise you had company in your bed. I apologise.”

You look to Crowley, willing him to be silent. If you could just hide him under the sheets and get Cas to go away, it'd be alright.

“Well I'm fine. I told them I needed space and I'd be back when I was ready to,” you say a little more snarkily than you meant to.

“I understand,” Castiel nods. “Should I tell them anything?”

“Just tell them I'm safe. Don't mention...this,” you say.

“Don't mention what?” the angel says confused.

“Don't mention the circumstances in which you found me,” you specify.

“Ah I see,” Cas says. “Yes, I can see how that would look bad that I caught you in a compromising situation with Crowley.”

Shit. He saw.

Crowley pops his head over the covers, “Really Feathers, you have extremely poor timing.”

“So I have been told,” the angel says, a little sheepishly.

“Best not mention this to the boys,” Crowley says firmly. “Especially Dean. Considering he has the Mark he may not react kindly to the news and Tabitha might get hurt.”

“I do not wish for that to happen,” Castiel affirms. “Don't worry, I will be discreet. I will merely let them know you're safe and in a hotel nearby.”

“Thank you,” you nod.

“I will...uh...let you return to your activities,” the angel coughs out before he disappears with a rushing flap of wings.

“Oh no,” you groan, the second he leaves. “The worst being in the world to entrust a secret to, knows a secret about me.”

“Hush, kitten,” Crowley says soothingly. “That idiot angel cares a lot for you. I don't think he'd wish to stir the pot, so to speak.”

“I hope so,” you whisper. “Honestly, if Dean's going to have the Mark for much longer and he finds out...I'm afraid...I'm afraid he'll kill me.”

“I would never let that happen,” Crowley growls, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I'd obliterate Dean if he even attempted it.”

“I really hope it doesn't come to that,” you murmur.

Crowley sighs heavily before trying to change the subject, “Well darling, suffice it to say I think the ambience is slightly ruined now. Shall we take a raincheck?”

You nod and Crowley lays down, pulling you to lie in the crook of his arm, his hand lazily stroking your side.

“So not only do rogue Winchesters interrupt us but now their pet angel does too,” Crowley huffs. “Will we ever get a moment's peace I wonder?”

“Someday,” you say.

“But for now, I'll settle for having a beautiful naked woman cuddled up to me,” Crowley chuckles.

“What more could you ask for?” you joke.

“Nothing, darling,” Crowley purrs. “Truly nothing.”

 


	13. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've cooled off after your fall out with the Winchesters but Crowley puts up a fight about taking you back to the bunker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again!  
> Just dropping a shorter chapter down and it may be a doozy.  
> Warnings: Smut, Also a ton of British references too
> 
> I recently set up an email which is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com if you want to send me a message privately, discuss anything or leave comments if you don't have an account :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> \- TLP x

 

You awake sometime in the early morning, completely encased in Crowley's limbs. You find it a little bizarre he stayed with you the whole night.

“Morning pet,” Crowley husks, kissing the top of your head.

“Morning,” you stretch, sleepily and you shiver as Crowley lets a hand drift down your prone torso. “Did you just stay there the entire time? I thought demons didn't sleep?”

“They don't, darling, but I meditate sometimes,” Crowley purrs. “Helps me think clearer.”

“Lord knows how you managed to meditate with my sleeping habits,” you joke.

“Must be my soothing presence,” Crowley smirks. “Come on, kitten, you must be hungry. Let's get you breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” you nod.

Crowley untangles himself from you but not before taking some groping liberties first and gets out of the bed, snapping his fingers to redress himself.

“Did you have to?” you pout.

You hear the mirthful chuckle, “My my, who's seducing who here, darling?”

A wicked grin crosses your face and you boldly get out of the bed, still stark naked and languidly stretch your back out. You turn back to see Crowley's hungry gaze travelling up your body.

“You play the game well,” Crowley says and you can see he's keeping himself in check right now. “Next time you do that I'll show you who's truly leading this merry waltz.”

“I look forward to it,” you wryly grin.

There's a low rumble that escapes Crowley's chest as he tries to tear his eyes away from you. You've grown to love hearing that sound. It made you feel slightly powerful.

“For my own sanity, I'm going to have to redress you, kitten,” he eventually rasps out. “Because I know the second I try and take you there will be interruptions. Maybe they'll send Castiel's vessel's spawn this time for an interesting shake up.”

You laugh, “I think Claire would stand out a mile away if she tried to come in here.”

Snap!

You're suddenly dressed again, albeit not in what you would usually wear to be comfortable. You're in tight high waisted black suede trousers that you assumed were worth a lot given the tailoring. He'd also selected a fitted forest green shirt that felt like it was probably silk.

“Brings out your complexion, darling,” Crowley purrs.

“I feel like I'm going to a meeting,” you say, looking down at yourself. “A meeting with a lot of rich people.”

“You suit business chic,” Crowley nods appreciatively. “Besides, I have to hand you back to the Hardy Boys today and I thought you might appreciate looking confident and powerful. Perhaps it might elicit a grovelling apology from those two morons.”

“I like your thinking,” you smile.

“At least someone appreciates my genius,” Crowley winks before coming over and taking your hand, leading you to the large dining table in the penthouse. “What's your preference, pet? Anything you like.”

“Anything?” you ask. “Don't they have set menus?”

“This is my hotel, kitten,” Crowley chuckles. “The King gets whatever he wants. So...proper English Breakfast? Something continental?”

“You know what?” you say shyly. “Being over here...I've really missed Sugar Puffs.”

Crowley bursts out into throaty laughter, “Oh my dear Tabitha, you are extremely precious. The whole culinary world at your fingertips and you choose a breakfast cereal.”

You shrug, “Hey, you said anything.”

“That I did,” Crowley nods. “Sugar Puffs it is, although I'll resist the urge to dress a minion of mine up as the Honey Monster.”

“Probably best,” you smile.

He picks up the phone, ordering the food before turning back to you and placing a hand overs yours, “Now...are you sure there's absolutely nothing I can do to convince you to stay a bit longer?”

“As much as I'd like to, I can't settle until the air is properly cleared with them,” you sigh. “I need to get this out of the way with.”

“And then will you return to me, pet?” Crowley asks, his face a little more serious.

“You know I can't answer that right now,” you say, equally as serious. “If it all goes ok then I'll probably stay with Sam and Dean again.”

Crowley grits his jaw and you can tell he's not happy in the slightest, “Then I suppose I lose you to the Winchesters once more.”

You could swear his pride seems wounded. You knew he had an intense rivalry cum strange partnership with the boys but you didn't think you returning to your old status quo would be that much of a bother. Maybe....maybe he thought you were using him? Using him to distract yourself from the Winchester drama? That theory is all but confirmed when you see the flash in his eyes and knew he'd been reading your thoughts.

“Stop doing that,” you hiss. “My thoughts are private.”

Crowley doesn't even acknowledge that, “So, Tabitha, is it true? Do you see me as that? If so, speak up and we'll go our separate ways.”

Why on earth was he being so intense about it? You felt like there was still residual traces of his human emotions prompting him to be insecure.

“I may be a demon, love, but I have dignity,” Crowley says, straightening up. “If you want to return to your merry life with Moose and Squirrel then by all means be my guest...”

“But you won't be second best,” you finish for him.

Crowley's eyes glimmer, “I told you, pet. I want all of you. I don't want half measures when it suits.”

You feel like rolling your eyes but that would be incredibly disrespectful. Honestly between Crowley's possessiveness and Dean's overbearing protective side you felt like a Regency romance heroine and you didn't like that feeling in the slightest.

You decide to put an end to this rubbish. You clear your head, making sure Crowley can't read what's going on before slipping to the floor and crawling under the tablecloth.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Tabitha?” Crowley asks in confusion.

You say nothing but reach his seat, yanking the chair forward and draping the cloth so it covers up to his waist. You then let your hands run over his legs, lightly at first before gripping hard.

“Kitten...” Crowley growls. “Stop that.”

You know he won't try to prevent you though and you palm him through his expensive suit pants. You're rewarded with an audible hiss. He's already hard. You can evidently feel that.

You start unlatching his belt buckle before dragging his trousers and his silk boxers off. You teasingly let your breath ghost across his bare skin and he shivers slightly.

“Darling,” Crowley says in warning, trying to reach for you under the table.

“Be quiet,” you say, slightly domineering as you dodge his grasp. “I'll show you bloody half measures.”

You lap a long line from the base of his cock all the way to the tip and the groan you receive is amazing. You instantly knew he'd given up because his hands lay patiently on his thighs. You take him into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl as you pressed him firmly to the back of your throat.

“Ohh pet, that's exquisite,” he moans.

You feel an internal sense of pride knowing you were driving him crazy. You hollow your cheeks, giving him more friction as you start to bob your head up and down the length of him. It's hard going. He's far above average and you have to really concentrate on dispelling your gag reflex as you dare to take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Crowley's hands find your head and his fingers twirl into your hair, encouraging you on, “That's it, darling. Ohh your tongue is magnificent.”

You sense a change of light as Crowley flips the tablecloth up so he can see you and he lets out a long purr of arousal, “Truly stunning, Tabitha.”

You let him leave your mouth with a soft pop before you look up at him with big wide eyes and maintain the eye contact as you lick up the length of him.

A sudden knock at the door makes you both freeze for a second.

“My King?” A voice calls. “I have the breakfast you requested.”

Crowley looks down at you and his eyes take on a red glimmer as he catches your mischievous smile. You take his cock into your mouth again with a raised eyebrow. He catches your meaning instantly.

“Naughty girl,” he whispers, dropping the tablecloth back down before turning to the door. “Come in!”

You hear the shuffling of feet as the lesser demon approaches and you decide it's time to ramp it up a notch.

“My King, is this satisfactory?” the demon asks.

You start a punishingly quick pace, using your hand as well to bob up and down.

“Y-yes,” Crowley says in a strangled sort of way.

You're trying hard not to smirk, imagining Crowley above you trying to keep his cool.

“Anything else, I can do?” the demon continues.

You force Crowley's cock down your throat as far as you can manage.

“N-n-NO!” Crowley almost bellows. “Enough, get out!”

“Yes, my King!” the demon squeaks and you hear him run out of the door.

The tablecloth is wrenched up and you see the lust filled eyes of Crowley staring at you with a mixture of arousal, annoyance and mirth.

“Quite the little exhibitionist, aren't you?” he growls as you take him deep again.

“Mmmhmmm,” you murmur, the vibrations running through your mouth.

“Oohhh darling, I had no idea you were so sinful,” he groans, letting his head roll back onto the chair. “It's delicious.”

You just smile, picking up your pace even more.

“Are you ready, kitten?” Crowley asks, his voice becoming hoarse and you knew he must be close.

Not moments later he grunts, the low primal sound rippling through his body as he tenses, his fingers knotting in your hair. You feel warmth flooding your mouth and drink it down eagerly. Well..if you ever wondered whether a demon was different, there was a slight edge of spice to the taste.

Crowley shivers as you lazily lap at him, cleaning up the mess. “Darling, get up here.”

You obey, carefully ducking out from underneath the table and standing. Crowley tucks himself away, redressing before he pulls you onto his lap, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You're full of surprises, aren't you?” he chuckles.

“Good ones I hope,” you smirk.

Crowley grips you by the neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You're mildly surprised that he slips his tongue into your mouth, sharing his own taste. Guess he'd had years to lose his inhibitions.

“Does that answer your question, pet?” he rasps.

“And does what I just did answer yours?” you say with a raised eyebrow. “I'm not choosing a side here. I'm just choosing where I sleep and work. I still want you, Crowley.”

“Say that you're mine, kitten,” Crowley husks, clutching you to him in an embrace. “Say it and I'll feel better letting you go back to them.”

“I think you'll find you're mine,” you laugh. “I had you completely at my mercy then.”

Crowley gives a brief laugh before his face becomes stoic again, “I'm serious, Tabitha.”

“So am I,” you nod, clutching his cheek and kissing him hard.

Eventually you break away and you see something akin to deep affection in his eyes. It lingers there and you realise exactly how deep you're falling down this rabbit hole. It should really scare you...but it doesn't any more.

“Good,” Crowley smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Now, are you going to eat your Sugar Puffs or have you eaten enough just now?”

You fake huff, pushing him in the chest and get up to eat your breakfast.

Mercifully the atmosphere settles into light hearted teasing and flirtation again.

 

  
**

 

 

The drive back to the bunker is awkward to say the least. The closer you get to it, the more Crowley becomes agitated. Even though he seems to have accepted that you're returning, he doesn't like it.

You pull into the bunker lot, noting the Impala is not there. You're unsure whether that means both brothers are gone currently or just Dean.

“They're not here,” Crowley says. “Let's leave and come back later, pet.”

“Crowley,” you say, giving him a reproachful look.

He sighs heavily, “Fine. I suppose this is where I say goodbye.”

“Only goodbye for now,” you smile.

Crowley leans over, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss, “It'd better be, kitten, otherwise I'll be coming back for you and it'll be a permanent removal.”

You laugh softly before digging into your shoulder bag and pulling out a pendant. You hold it out to him and he extends a hand before you drop it into his palm.

“What's this?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“That's my grandmother's,” you explain. “When I joined the Men of Letters she gave it to me as a good luck talisman of sorts. Probably should have worn it more often and I wouldn't have got into so many scrapes recently.”

Crowley turns the pendant over, rubbing his thumb over the pewter symbol, “This is old.”

“Yeah she said it had been in the family for generations,” you nod.

“Well someone in your family used to be a druid it seems, pet,” Crowley laughs.

“I'm sorry...what?” you ask, a little stunned.

“This is a genuine talisman but it isn't for luck, it's for protection,” he chuckles.

You lean back in the seat staring at the intricate knot pattern, “Well...you learn something new every day.”

Crowley holds it back out to you but you just close his fist over it.

“Keep it,” you say. “That's precious to me. Maybe it'll give you a bit more reassurance that I'm not about to run in there and up the warding.”

Crowley looks alarmed, staring at you and the pendant before he breaks out into a wide smile and unbuttons his shirt slightly, slipping the chain around his neck and doing the clasp. It's completely hidden when he redoes the shirt but you see him briefly touch where it lands on his chest.

“Perhaps I do feel a little better,” he murmurs. “One last kiss for the road?”

“Come and get it,” you smirk.

“You are a tease, darling,” he chuckles, leaning over and languidly devouring you with his insistent lips before he breaks away with reluctance.

“If those two blithering idiots give you any trouble, call me,” he says, with a serious face.

“I will,” you nod. “And I'll text you later.”

“How modern,” he smirks. “Well, Tabitha, it's been...memorable. I shan't be forgetting this morning any time soon....ta ta, darling.”

With that he's gone. Oddly everything seems a little too oppressively quiet now he's disappeared. You shake that feeling off, leaning into the back seat and grabbing your duffle bag before walking to the bunker door. You steel yourself, taking a deep breath and open the door. You walk down the steps and you hear Sam calling out.

“Dean?”

“Not unless I've had a sex change recently,” you quip back.

You hear the sound of things being hurriedly dropped and Sam comes running into the War Room. He hesitates in the doorway upon seeing you and you can see the flurry of emotions that crosses his face: happiness, apprehension, uncertainty.

“Are you going to give me a hug or just stand there?” you smirk.

Sam seems relieved you're not shouting at him and he crosses the room, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “I'm so happy you came back.”

“Yeah well..” you sigh. “Someone needs to look after you two scoundrels.”

Sam laughs and you find yourself relaxing against him. You never knew you missed him so much until this point. He always had a way of calming you down with his gentle nature.

“I'm really sorry,” Sam whispers, stroking your hair as he holds you. “We were assholes, I know. We shouldn't have sprung that without talking to you first and you're right, Crowley's a valuable ally right now.”

“You should listen to me sometimes, you know?” you say chidingly. “Not like I'm a rookie to this kind of thing.”

“I guess we just forget sometimes,” Sam laughs softly. “You're not like any hunter we've ever known.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” you grin.

“You should,” Sam chuckles, pulling away. “Are you back for good?”

“Well...” you start.

“Ah,” Sam nods, coming to a realisation. “Depends on Dean, right?”

“He's got a lot of explaining to do,” you say simply.

“Yeah he does,” Sam sighs, pushing his hair back out of his face. “Although he's been torturing himself all yesterday over it.”

You set your duffle bag down and hop onto the War Room table, sitting on the edge, “I want to know exactly what happened when I left, Sam.”

“Alright, I'll tell you,” Sam says. “But...I'm going to make us some cocoa first.”

“You? Cocoa?” you say bewildered. “What happened to the 'my body is a temple' stuff?”

“I'm celebrating,” he laughs, starting to walk out of the room.

“Celebrating what?” you call after him.

“That you didn't give up on us. It's an honest to God miracle,” you hear him chuckle.

Ten minutes later he returns with two steaming cups and he sits down at the table, passing you one of them.

“Oh wow, you put cream on the top and everything!” you say in surprise. “You know, if you're trying to butter me up, you're doing a good job.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sam smiles.

You take a big sip and you're grinning from ear to ear after. Sam's really good at making cocoa for a guy who practically lives on protein shakes and salad.

“Dad's recipe..well, Mom's apparently,” Sam says, noticing your expression.

“Well thank you Mary Winchester,” you laugh. “So...what happened?”

Sam sighs a little, drinking from the mug and then starts, “After you left I don't think I've ever seen Dean that broken, Tabitha. He was furious, like, raging even but it was directed more at himself, you know? The whole drive back he was just tormenting himself over what he did and what he said to you. Then we got back and I think he must have called everyone we knew trying to find out where you were to try and apologise. I mean, I think he even tried Crowley at one point. He was just going berserk.”

“Why did he want to find me so badly?” you say, perplexed. “I only needed time to cool off.”

“Well saying that you were 'done' probably didn't give that impression,” Sam says wryly. “Even _I_ thought you were going to leave and when I saw you'd cleared your room out...”

“Ok, that's fair,” you nod. “I can see how that would have looked. So where is he now?”

“I don't know,” Sam admits. “He went to a bar and came back and then Cas popped in.”

You keep your best poker face, hoping the angel hadn't said anything.

“And he said you were in a hotel somewhere and safe,” Sam continues and you relax a bit inside. “Then Dean just took off.”

“Why did he go?” you ask, taking another sip from your mug.

“I don't know,” Sam shrugs. “I guess Cas was kinda hinting you were gonna come back soon so I don't know whether he was too ashamed to stick around.”

You roll your eyes, “Typical Dean, right?”

Sam says nothing but just slyly smirks into his mug.

“It's good to be back,” you say, swinging your legs childishly and letting your head fall back. “I've missed this place.”

“Didn't seem the same without you in it and your terrible rock song renditions,” Sam laughs.

“Hey!” you exclaim, lightly hitting him in the shoulder. “It's just the acoustics in this place, they don't give my voice enough credit!”

The two of you both burst into good natured laughter. It almost seemed unreal that you'd ever fallen out with Sam.

That mood is promptly shattered when you hear the bunker door swing open. You look to the staircase with wide eyes before looking back to Sam. He just gives you a worried expression, swallowing hard before giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

The figure at the top of the stairs doesn't seem to notice the two of you as a large box obscures the view. Dean gradually makes his way down, shucking off his shoes at the bottom in that messy way that he always does before walking into the War Room. The second he lowers the box you see the panic in his eyes as he spots you.

“Tabs?!” he almost shouts and his face goes through all the emotions that Sam's had only with one extra...shame.

“Hi Dean,” you say nonchalantly.

Sam gets up from his seat and gives you a knowing look, “I'll leave you to it.” He walks into his bedroom without another word.

Dean's just standing there, unsure of what to do so you decide to throw him a lifeline. You stand up, walking over and take the box out of his hand, setting it down on the table before turning back to him. He's still stood there and you can see his mind whirring over what to say.

“I've never known you so quiet, Dean,” you laugh softly. “Even when you're doing that brooding thing you still chatter away.”

“You actually came back,” Dean murmurs. “Holy crap you're back.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “We need to talk.”

Dean takes a deep breath and blows the air out hard, “Where the hell do I even start?”

“At the beginning?” you wryly smile.

Dean's lip curls up in a semi grin but it's almost like he won't allow himself to actually feel the emotion, “Sure. Let's start by saying I was a dick...like a grade A dick. You asked us for honesty and we didn't think to let you in on the Crowley plan. We thought...no, _I_ thought I was doing the best thing for you, for all of us by getting rid of him and I didn't think of the wider consequences. I'm also..I'm really sorry about what I did...”

He trails off, looking down at the floor, avoiding your gaze completely, “I hate myself that I hurt you like that. I don't even know why I said it.”

“I'm not gonna lie, Dean,” you sigh. “You really upset me and I don't get upset easily.”

Dean hangs his head, turning his body away from you, hiding his face.

“But I know you're sorry and Sam told me how hard you tried to find me. So....I'm gonna let this one slide,” you say, starting to walk over to him. “I forgive you, Dean, but if you ever touch me like that again or say something that vile, I will walk.”

“I understand,” comes the muted reply. Still he doesn't turn around to you.

You just shake your head in exasperation. Dean was the undisputed champion of beating himself up. You decide to make your point clearer so you pull him into a hug. He's completely rigid, his body tense but you stay there until he starts to find the courage to return the embrace. When he finally accepts that you've forgiven him, he starts to hug tighter until you can eventually feel him completely unwind. You swear you feel something drop onto your shoulder but it's not until you feel the moisture seep through your blouse that you realise he's crying.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Enough of that. Honestly Dean, I've seen you cry so much at this point that maybe you're actually the girlier one out of you and Sam.”

That earns a small chuckle, “Nah sweetheart, I'm definitely the one chicks dig more.”

Well humour was a good start at least.

You feel Dean's hands let up on their tight bind and one moves to completely wrap around your waist and the other cards into your hair, pulling your head to rest under his chin.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you murmur back. “I got your message.”

“I was scared you'd never come back,” he continues, the honesty flowing from him as the tears flow down his face. “It felt like there was a part of me that was gone and all I had left was the anger.”

“Glad to know I'm your moral compass,” you snort.

“I'm serious Tabs,” Dean says, rocking gently with you on the spot. “I can't say enough how sorry I am. I just...I want it to go back to how it was in the start. You, me, Sammy, our vinyl record DJ offs, the times we used to work on each others' cars, the stupid Netflix tv binges we went on...hell, even when we fought over pie and cheesecake.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “One of these days you won't steal my key lime pie.”

“Yeah well one of these days you'll be a little smarter where you hide it, princess,” Dean laughs, ruffling your hair playfully.

He releases you, wiping away the tear tracks on his face with his sleeve before you see warmth returning to his eyes. He seems to be looking at you properly now. His eyes glance over your clothing and he smirks slightly.

“Like the threads, Tabs. Suits you,” he smiles.

You have to refrain from replying that Crowley said the same thing.

“Hey, well..it's nice to make a little bit of effort sometimes,” you say, winking slightly.

“Damn, if that's a little bit of effort you must be a knockout when you make a lot,” Dean laughs.

“So what's the box about?” you ask.

“Oh, right!” Dean says, hurrying over and his hands pause on the top, turning around to you and you can swear a slight blush creeps onto his cheeks. “Well...Cas kinda said you might be back today or soon at least so remember I told you about that shop? The one that sells Brit stuff?”

He motions you over and opens the box. Inside is an array of British sweets, chocolates, cakes, crisps, drinks and savoury snacks.

“Jesus, Dean!” you cry out.

“I guess this is my 'I'm sorry' gift,” he says, chuckling slightly.

Sam comes back into the room, seemingly concerned about your exclamation, “What's going on?”

“Uh..” Dean stutters. “I got Tabs Brit food to say sorry.”

“This is amazing!” you giggle with glee, hopping on the spot slightly as you see some old favourites of yours nestled in the box.

“Well I think it's a done deal that she forgives you,” Sam laughs.

“Guys?” you ask the both of them. “Let's share this.”

“What? No way!” Dean huffs. “This is for you.”

“Yeah and I wanna share it,” you laugh. “I wanna see what you think.”

“Like a taste test?” Sam smiles.

“Exactly!” you nod. “Come on Sam, can you stretch your cheat day a little bit more?”

“Yeah I'm up for that,” Sam beams. “Dean?”

“Ah fine,” Dean chuckles. “But I have high standards, just so you know.”

Both you and Sam snort loudly.

“I've seen you eat a microwave burger,” Sam says with a quirked eyebrow.

“That was one time!” Dean protests. “I got desperate!”

Sam carries the box into the little living room you've set up and puts it on the coffee table. You excuse yourself for a second to go to the bathroom and dig out your phone, seeing there's a text waiting for you.

 

**Not Lover: Send me a selfie so I know Beavis and Butthead haven't angsted you to death.**

 

You can't help but faintly chuckle. Crowley sure had the Winchester's signature broodiness pegged. You get mischievous and unbutton the first three buttons of your blouse, taking a picture at such an angle that your cleavage is very prominently on display before you send it to him.

 

**Tabitha: Still very much alive**

 

You finish what you're doing and are about to go back out when you feel your phone buzz again in your pocket.

 

**Not Lover: I now have a new lock screen background. Ta darling, you look ravishing x**

 

You decide to be extra cheeky and unbutton the blouse all the way down until it hangs either side of your body and you do your best seductive pose for the camera before sending that off to him.

 

**Not Lover: Kitten, you're trying to kill me now. Stop it. This meeting just became very awkward x**

**Tabitha: Lucky I'm not under a table again**

**Not Lover: I'm going to spank you six ways from Sunday next time I see you x**

**Tabitha: I hope that's a promise ;)**

**Not Lover: Darling, stop sexting me or I'll appear in that bunker right now x**

**Tabitha: Spoilsport. Talk later then**

**Not Lover: Good girl. Have fun with the Brothers Grimm x**

 

You're practically having to stifle your laughter now. You can just imagine Crowley trying to conceal his evident arousal around a bunch of lobbying demons.

You button yourself back up before walking out and see that Sam and Dean are waiting, having spread all the food out on the coffee table. Sam's queued up the British show selection on Netflix.

“Hey I thought it was appropriate,” he shrugs. “So what's good from you guys that Dean hasn't already seen?”

“Good luck tryna find something new for me, sweetcheeks,” Dean laughs, chugging a beer.

You immediately put on Black Books and he blanches slightly.

“Ok, you got lucky,” he mutters.

You spend the rest of the evening trying out the various snacks and laughing at the TV. It feels homely, like you're a proper family. Dean takes great delight in trying to imagine what the food will taste like before he eats it.

“So Jaffa Cake huh?” he says. “I bet it's orange tasting sponge and chocolate.”

“Not quite,” you laugh, chucking him the packet.

The second he eats one you see that haze come over his eyes, the one he always gets when he's enjoying something, “Oh god. Yes....Sammy, this is so good. I could eat a million of them.”

Sam just snorts, digging into a Dairy Milk bar, “This was a good idea, Tabitha.”

You smile warmly at him before turning back to Dean to see he's eaten about five more Jaffa Cakes. He gives you a guilty look before shrugging endearingly.

The afternoon melts into the evening and you and Sam start joining Dean in his drinking. You find it hilarious that Sam has to duck out so soon after drinking beyond his limit.

“You're such a lightweight, Sammy,” Dean calls.

“Yeah yeah,” Sam slurs, swaying slightly as he stands up. “Shut up, Dean. Good night you guys.”

“Night!” you call after him, giggling.

“You know, Tabs,” Dean laughs. “I seriously love that you can keep up with me. Sam's such a disappointing drinking buddy.”

“Maybe but at least he doesn't devour so much food like you do,” you tease. “I mean, holy crap Dean!”

“Hey, you said you'd share it,” Dean winks. “You didn't specify how much I could eat.”

You sock him playfully in the shoulder and he winces slightly.

After your seventh bourbon shot you're pretty sure you're done for the night. You're unsteady even sitting down and you're hysterically giggling at everything even though it's not funny.

“You're cute,” Dean smiles, his eyes twinkling warmly.

“I'm not cute, I'm fucking adorable,” you say, poking your tongue out.

“Goddamn, if I'da known you were this much fun wasted I would have twisted your arm on it sooner,” Dean laughs.

“Hey, I'm fun sober too!” you protest.

“I know,” Dean says, slightly slurring himself now. “But it's just nice to see you smile so much.”

“Well, I mean, if you will buy Tunnock's teacakes,” you grin, wrenching open the packet and trying to fit the huge teacake in your mouth. It just splinters, covering your lips in marshmallow and chocolate and you desperately try to cram it in before it drops all over the sofa.

“You're such a dork,” Dean laughs.

“Shut up,” you try to say around a mouthful of food before you manage to swallow, swiping at your lips to try and clean yourself up.

Dean smiles. “You missed a spot.”

“Where?” you ask in alarm.

“Right side, just there,” he says pointing.

You furiously wipe your mouth but he just chuckles, leaning close to you.

“Come here, princess,” he says, putting his hand on your face and running his thumb on a spot just under your lip. “There we go.”

He doesn't move away though. Instead he continues running his thumb along your skin and it traces over your lips.

“Do I have more marshmallow still?” you ask, with wide eyes.

Dean moves his thumb back, cupping your cheek and looks at you with an unreadable expression. You're not quite sure what's going on. Perhaps the teacake went more over your face than you thought and you just look like a toddler let loose on a biscuit tin right now.

You don't expect what happens next.

Dean leans over and kisses you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's gonna hit the fan...


	14. A Demon's Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's kissed you and you haven't the first clue what to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Finally got this chapter out!
> 
> I hope you're buckled in for heavy angst and heavy...(well that would be spoiling it)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos, views and comments so far! I really love receiving your thoughts!
> 
> Remember if you don't have an account and if you wanna send over private messages or prompt requests then my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Sorry for any proofreading errors! It's been a wild few days!)

 

It takes you a second to realise what's actually happening. Your eyes are still open and all you can see is the blur of Dean's face as he's pressed to you. Abruptly your hand flies to his chest and you push him back.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Hey, you're awesome, Tabs,” Dean slurs, a grin on his face. “Just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

“By kissing me?” you say in a voice that was much too loud.

“You're pretty,” Dean shrugs, a little sloppily. “You're pretty and you had a face covered in marshmallow. I like marshmallow.”

You don't quite know how to process this. Was he doing it as a spur of the moment thing or were there some deeper feelings there?

“Hard at work with Abaddon I see,” comes the very clipped tone of Crowley from behind you.

You jump, arms flailing slightly and you knock over the bourbon bottle which clatters with a heavy thud onto the surface of the table.

“Jesus, Crowley!” Dean half yells. “It's called a door, ever heard of it?”

“It's called a good work ethic, ever heard of it?” Crowley fires back.

You wonder exactly how much Crowley saw before he said anything. One quick glance at his face told you precisely that answer. Everything. You don't think you've ever seen a more venomous glare. Crowley's expression is pure rage and primal instinct.

“We were just having a break,” Dean rolls his eyes, slumping back into the arm of the couch.

“Is that what they call it these days?” Crowley says dangerously. “Because it looked like you were trying to cop off with Tabitha here.”

“Oh come on,” Dean scoffs, trying to wave his hand dismissively but it comes across as a drunken swipe. “What are you, her dad now? I was just in the moment.”

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat her like one of your bar hook ups,” Crowley growls.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, sitting more upright and swaying a little. “I would never do that. I was just being....ah what's the goddamn word....affectionate?”

“Dean, go to bed,” you say, finding your voice again. “You're drunk.”

“So are you, princess,” Dean chuckles. “Or should I say, Miss Can't-Find-Her-Own-Mouth-With-Food.”

You can almost hear the angry rumble purring in Crowley's chest. You were sobering up pretty quickly now. The last thing you wanted was a full scale catfight between these two.

“Dean,” you say, a little more forcefully. “Go to bed.”

“Nah,” Dean murmurs. “Can't get to the bedroom, legs don't work.”

“Oh give me strength,” you sigh to whatever god was listening. “I'll put you to bed myself, you idiot.”

“Nah, don't throw your back out sweetheart,” Dean slurs, shaking his head violently from side to side to illustrate his point.

You stand up, ignoring your drunken friend's protests and bodily yank him to a standing position, throwing one of his arms around your shoulders for support. He wobbles for a time before he regains his footing.

“Holy crap, Tabs, you're stronger than I thought!” Dean exclaims.

You look to Crowley with the most unamused expression you can muster and think out a sentence you know he'll hear.

_I'm putting him to bed and then I'm coming back for you._

Crowley nods, but barely. You half drag Dean down the corridor, back along to his room and have to fight with balancing him and trying to open the door for a good while. Eventually you manage it and take three steps before throwing Dean onto the bed where he lands with a hefty thud and bounces upwards slightly.

“Whooo damn!” Dean laughs. “That was a rollercoaster!”

“Good night, Dean,” you say, turning to leave.

“Tabs, come 'ere,” Dean giggles. “You gotta tuck me in.”

“Oh for...” you trail off before you can start swearing.

You felt stupid pulling a grown man up the mattress and laying blankets over him. You were still on the right side of tipsy right now and you didn't need this. You needed greasy food and a good sleep.

Before you can leave, Dean grabs your arm, pulling you down on top of him.

“What on earth are you doing?!” you say in alarm.

“I mean it Tabs, I'd never treat you like a bar girl,” he drawls in a lazy way, haphazardly trying to stroke your hair. “I care about you too much.”

“Good to know,” you say curtly, trying to push off of him.

“Just, gimme a kiss goodnight, princess,” Dean smiles in a way that would normally be adorable but you're hyper conscious of the angry King of Hell that was down the corridor.

“No, Dean, because you're gonna wake up in the morning full of regrets,” you press, managing to extract yourself from his hefty limbs.

“I could never regret kissing you, sweetheart,” Dean grins. “Been meaning to do that for a while.”

Oh no...

And there it was. It wasn't just a spur of the moment thing. Crowley had been right all along, Dean did think of you as something more than a friend.

“Go to sleep, Dean,” you say, suddenly feeling drained and you back away hurriedly.

“I'm sorry,” comes the muffled reply as Dean turns his head into the pillow. “I know you don't feel the same. Just had to try, you know?”

You stand there for a while, trying to put your head back together. This really wasn't what you needed right now.

Not a minute later there were small snores coming from the bed and you finally got out of Dean's bedroom, heading back down to where Crowley awaited. You'd not got one foot into the room before Crowley grabbed you roughly, closing the door behind you and pinning you to it.

“What the bloody hell is going on?!” he hisses. “I feel this wave of distress from you and Dean's attached to your mouth!”

“Wave of distress?” you question but he just ignores it.

“You've got ten seconds to explain yourself, pet, before I get very very angry,” he growls darkly.

“Explain myself?!” you roar back, getting irate yourself. “All I did was eat a bloody Tunnock's Teacake and the next thing I know Dean's right there!”

“Are you...are you drunk right now?” Crowley asks, looking at your slightly swaying demeanour.

“Yes I'm slightly drunk,” you retort, trying to push him back by his chest but he doesn't move at all. “Not that it matters. I didn't decide to suddenly throw myself at Dean and I certainly didn't lead him on! All I wanted was a fun night of drinking and eating food!”

Crowley grabs your hands from his chest and pins them above your head, moving his face closer to yours, trying to learn the truth from your eyes. You let him. You let him stare as long as he wants to. In fact...you do some staring of your own. Alcohol always had a funny tendency of heightening your urges and you can't help but look at the firm set of Crowley's jaw, the thick cords of his neck tightening with his rage, the eyes ablaze with fire...

“Tabitha, stop trying to distract me,” Crowley glowers. “Did you want him? Did you want Dean?”

“Hey!” you cry out, your lust making way for your anger again. “You were watching, you saw me push him away!”

Crowley's face is mere inches from yours and your brain goes into meltdown as your thoughts are practically screaming at you to kiss him. You wondered what angry sex with him would be like. Would it leave marks? That would be kinda fun.

“Bloody hell, Tabitha!” Crowley hisses. “Calm yourself! I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!”

“What if I don't want to calm myself?” you fire back, the lust evident in your voice and you find yourself pressing up against him. “I told you, Crowley, it's you I want and right now I want you very badly.”

“Darling, you're, for lack of a better term, absolutely trollied. You need rest,” Crowley says and you can tell he's slowly accepting that you didn't have anything to do with what happened.

“I don't need rest, I need fun,” you pout. “Take me to your hotel.”

“Tabith-” Crowley starts to say but you break out of his grip, throwing your arms around him with wild abandon and kiss him heavily.

At first he tries to shrug you off but you're insistent in your need and you end up whirling him round and pinning him to the door, exactly where you were moments ago. Your hands curl up into his shirt, desperately seeking the closeness. You can feel him relent under you, overwhelmed by the passion you're raining upon him.

“Crowley, I need you,” you say urgently, kissing up the side of his neck and underneath his bearded jaw.

“Kitten, you are the worst kind of temptation,” Crowley rasps. “I'm trying to be annoyed at you here.”

“Don't care,” you say, raking your teeth across his throat. “You can be annoyed at me later.”

Crowley's hand finds your hair and wrenches your head back from him. You find yourself staring into his eyes which hold a mixture of blatant arousal and residual rage. He wanted you, you knew that but he was also trying to be too proud. You needed to break his pride.

Your hand finds the pendant outline underneath his shirt and you smile slightly, “This is mine.” You then gesture to the whole of Crowley, “And that is mine. I want what's mine.”

“And I wanted what was mine to not end up playing tongues with a Winchester,” Crowley growls back.

“Shut up,” you dismiss him, letting your hand dip down to palm him through his suit trousers and you smirk when he can't fight back the groan in his throat. “Let me show you exactly whose I am. Take me to your hotel.”

Firm hands grip the sides of your face, forcing you to meet his gaze, “Fine, Tabitha. You want it to be like this then know I won't hold back. You want to be mine, I'll make sure everybody knows about it.”

You're sure there's consequences to those words but you're too tipsy to care, “I'd be disappointed if you held back.”

“Ohhh kitten,” Crowley rumbles. “You have no idea what you've let yourself in for.”

Snap!

There's a sudden heady rush of vertigo and you almost fall over but strong arms catch you, pulling you upright before pushing you in the opposite direction. You stumble and fall onto a bed, the same bed you'd spent the previous night in. You barely have time to adjust to being horizontal before hands are pawing at your clothing. Your trousers are wrenched down before you're flipped over and Crowley straddles you, urgently unbuttoning your blouse. You know he could easily zap your clothes off but you couldn't deny you loved the feeling of him impatiently tearing your clothes away.

“It's like unwrapping a present for myself,” Crowley chuckles, hearing your train of thought.

“I hope you like it,” you smirk.

“I like luxurious things and you're exquisite, darling,” Crowley purrs, gliding your bra off with ease and your underwear soon follows behind.

He leans his body over you, still infuriatingly overdressed and your hands come up to try and rectify that situation but he pushes them down.

“Not until you're ready for me, pet,” he husks. “I'm not going to go easy on you. Don't rush me.”

He dips his head to your chest and his teeth tug at the skin where the swell of your breast begins to form. You let out a little gasp, writhing lightly as the pain mingles into your arousal. Crowley starts biting even harder and you're sure the skin is already bruising.

“I like to sign my work with a flourish,” he hums, looking down at the purpling little circle. “A little reminder for you of whose woman you've pledged to be.”

“I've pledged, have I?” you tease. “As far as I'm aware you've not taken full liberties yet so I remain decidedly unclaimed.”

An honest to god feral growl echoes throughout Crowley's body as his hand roughly grabs your chin, forcing your gaze upwards, “Is that what you want, kitten? You want to be claimed? Claimed by the King of Hell? Say it.”

“Claim me, Crowley,” you purr, stretching your body out languidly for him.

“With pleasure,” he rumbles.

His kisses are vicious, urgent and passionate, alternating between biting at your lip and seeking your tongue with his. One hand slides down your torso and in between your legs, seeking that delicious sweet spot and his fingers begin a punishing rhythm. Your whimpers and moans are swallowed by his aggressive kisses.

You're getting close but he pulls away completely, sitting backwards before discarding his overcoat and suit jacket, wrenching off his tie and casting his shirt to some forgotten corner of the room. He gives you a wicked smirk before settling in between your legs, head bowed and he laps hungrily at you, savouring the taste.

“Crowley,” you pant out, trying to get your insistence across but he just goes slower, his tongue running a long line up you and you're shivering with the exertion.

“You're not ready yet, darling,” he rasps and you can hear the grin in his tone.

He slips a finger into you, slowly sliding it in and out whilst his tongue centres in on your clit. God this is maddening! You were so worked up and impatient and Crowley was beginning to move even slower.

“Crowley please,” you whine.

“Mmm we're getting there,” he chuckles, lifting his mouth off of you for mere moments before returning and slipping a second finger inside.

Your whole body is coiled, just waiting for an orgasm he's never going to let you have.

“Please Crowley!” you cry out. “Please! I can't take this teasing any more!”

“And there we are,” Crowley smirks. “You're ready for me now, kitten.”

He withdraws his fingers, standing up off of the bed and takes the final layers of his clothes off. He prowls back onto the bed, the movements predatory as he settles himself over you and you can feel the heat from his skin.

“No interruptions this time, pet,” he purrs into your ear. “I've got angel warding on this room now. Still sure you want this?”

“Yes,” you nod, slightly breathless with the anticipation. “Don't make me wait any longer.”

Crowley lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing ever so slightly into you. He strokes your face almost lovingly before murmuring, “My Tabitha”, and driving home.

You're sure the sound you made was incredibly loud as you try to adjust to his sheer size. He lets you take a moment before you start crooking your legs over his back and he takes that as a sign.

Crowley's right, he's not going easy on you. The ferociousness of his thrusts take you completely by surprise but you soon recover yourself, your hands roaming over any part of his skin you can find. You scrape your nails down his back and he rewards you with an extra deep rut that makes you moan heavily.

“Magnificent,” he croons. “Truly magnificent, my darling.”

His hands dig into your shoulders as he uses them to keep you still, his mouth pressing harsh kisses across your neck and throat. You find yourself completely lost in the aggression, moaning pliantly under his assertive touch. You couldn't take control back even if you wanted to...which you don't.

“Tell me you're mine,” Crowley growls against your ear as he grabs your thigh, hiking your leg up higher around him. “Tell me you're mine, kitten.”

“I'm yours, Crowley,” you reply breathlessly as the new angle allows him to drive deeper into you. “Fuck, I'm yours!”

His hand snakes from your thigh to in between you and he begins tracing vicious circles around your clit. You've been on the edge for some time now and your whole body tenses as your orgasm slams into you. You're pretty sure you screamed Crowley's name but you can't be entirely certain as your senses melt, the only sensations you can truly experience being the insistent thrusts of Crowley and the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“And don't you ever forget it, Tabitha,” Crowley says hoarsely. “Ohhh pet, you're resplendent when you cum for me, did you know that?”

Your limbs feel extremely heavy and you're just letting Crowley take his fill of you at this point.

“Look at me, darling, let me see you,” he murmurs and you turn your gaze to him.

There's a possessive purr that escapes his mouth, followed by a coarse grunt as he pushes himself into you as far he can go and finds his own release. You can feel the warmth flooding you.

Neither of you moves for the longest time. Crowley's propping himself up on his elbows, his forehead pressed to yours and you both lie there, trying to regain your breath.

“That was worth the wait,” you smile.

“Undoubtedly,” Crowley chuckles. “Consider yourself well and truly claimed, darling.”

“About time,” you smirk.

Crowley narrows his eyes, playfully capturing your bottom lip in his teeth and tugging slightly before letting go, “You're a menace, Tabitha, I swear.”

“But you like it,” you wink.

“Ohh you have no idea,” Crowley smiles warmly before his expression becomes a little tentative. He almost seems to be toying with saying what's on his mind. “Tabitha...I....I need to say something.”

“Ok, go ahead,” you say.

“I....I lo-” he starts but a hammering at the door causes you both to look around in alarm.

“My King, you requested our presence,” a voice yells through the door.

“Oh bugger!” Crowley hisses. “I'd forgotten that. Kitten, you need to get dressed right away.”

He pulls out of you and you have to admit, you miss the warmth of his body on yours. He snaps his fingers quickly and you're redressed in the same outfit you came here in.

“We have all gathered,” the voice says. “We're coming in.”

“Hide yourself,” Crowley says urgently. “You can't be seen here.”

“Take me back quickly,” you say, hopping out of the bed.

“No time,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers again and redressing himself. He starts walking towards the door. “Go!”

You look around wildly for a place to hide and end up diving into the wardrobe i.e. the most cliché place anyone ever hides in. You silently curse yourself for not picking somewhere better and drop to the floor, staring out of the keyhole.

A myriad of demons enter and ensconce themselves on seats. They all seem to be rather impatient for subjects of Crowley. You got the sense something was a little off.

You could only catch snippets of what was being said but it sounded like Crowley was trying to give a rousing speech. Certainly didn't look like it was going down too well. Then something happened that made your stomach flip.

Abaddon appeared out of nowhere, sat on the very bed you and Crowley had just occupied. Oh god, you didn't even have a weapon. You were completely defenceless hiding in a wardrobe like a scared little girl. You couldn't even call for Cas as Crowley had warded the room.

“- And once I'm gone, who do you think's next on those cute boys' list? That's right. So let's get real. Join me in taking out the Winchesters, their pet Brit and that ridiculous Blade, and _then_ we'll deal with each other,” you catch Abaddon saying.

Your heart feels like it's about to be wrenched out of your chest. I guess now was the real test about whether Crowley was serious about you. What would you even do if he did betray you? You had no way of escaping this situation.

“To be clear... I'll not be joining you ever. Except at your death scene, where I shall burst into song. Goodbye. You have no hold over me,” Crowley says curtly, whirling around and making his overcoat fly out dramatically.

You're secretly thanking him for remembering his promise and you're sure you see a slight smile pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh really?” Abaddon says, sighing. “Is that how you want to play it?”

She takes three long strides over to your hiding place and yanks the wardrobe doors open. You stand up quickly, not wanting her to intimidate you. She grabs you by the hair, forcing you to walk out into the bedroom.

“How did you-” Crowley says, astonished.

“You think I can't sense an untainted human presence nearby?” Abaddon scoffs. “Or the fact this room reeks of sex and not in the sad solo way I always imagined you doing Crowley. Well done, by the way, seducing the Winchester's pet Brit is a bold move even for you.”

“Are you done?” Crowley says blithely, one eyebrow arched.

“Not even close,” Abaddon smirks, stroking a long nailed finger down your cheek and you squirm away from her touch. “Pretty girl, this one. Would be a shame to marr her.”

Crowley rolls his eyes and you know he's trying to look disinterested on purpose, “Really, Red. This is a very weak hand you're playing.”

“Oh come on,” Abaddon hisses, locking her hand around your throat and squeezing tightly. “All that human blood you've been ingesting, are you sure you don't have feelings for this one?”

“Honestly, this is tiresome,” Crowley sighs, burying his hands into his overcoat pockets.

Abaddon draws an ornate dagger out of her pocket, placing it to your neck where her hand had been moments ago and presses, the skin splitting a little and sending a few blood droplets racing down your chest.

“Alright, enough!” Crowley barks. “You've made your point!”

“Oh well isn't that interesting?” Abaddon laughs. “You do care. I suggest if you want her kept alive that you make that phone call to the Winchesters and bring them here. It's time to end this ridiculous charade.”

Crowley's clenching his jaw so hard you're sure it'll break. He whips out his phone, going into the other room and he appears to be speaking to Dean hurriedly. You're not quite sure how they're going to react to you not being in the bunker and you hoped he was giving a reasonable explanation...

“Run with demons often, dear?” Abaddon says, almost conversationally. When you say nothing she just laughs and pushes further, “You're missing out. A Knight of Hell could have offered you so much more. I see the potential in your soul for great darkness. Properly nurtured...well you could be a brilliant demon, let's just say that.”

“Think I'll pass,” you hiss.

“Goody two shoes,” Abaddon huffs.

“They're collecting the Blade,” Crowley says, walking back into the room. “Now I'd appreciate it if you released her.”

“So you can zap her out of here? No chance,” Abaddon scoffs. “She's my leverage. No no no, we're going to all sit and have a nice chat. Start walking, Cambridge.”

She pushes her knee into your back, propelling you forward and you have to balance precariously for a second to not fall into the knife edge. She directs you to the table and sits you down on a chair opposite from Crowley, knife now pointed at the nape of your neck.

“Now,” she smiles. “Let's get to know each other.”

 

 

A few hours go by and you're exhausted. You're no longer drunk and you're completely drained of energy. All you want is a good sleep but the point of the blade pressing into your neck means you can't drift off.

Crowley looks incredibly tired himself. He's been fielding calls from Sam and Dean, trying to clue them in on what's going on. You're glad he's remembered the word 'poughkeepsie' and he's made sure to slip that in a few times. Hopefully the brothers will cotton on.

“Nice. But here's the thing...you've been plotting with those boys for some time now. When they get here, it'll be you, the Winchesters, her, the First Blade, and little, old me in one place. Now, I don't mind stiff odds, but ...let's be reasonable,” Abaddon says, after Crowley hangs up on Dean again.

Out of nowhere she produces a gun and shoots Crowley in the shoulder. The shot echoes loudly in your ears and you half cry out as Crowley reels backwards.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Crowley roars at the same time as you shout, “Why the bloody hell did you do that?!”

“Little trick I learned from Henry Winchester. I had a devil's trap carved in the bullet. You're not seriously damaged, just...powerless,” Abaddon smirks. “As for this one, I'm sure good ol' handcuffs will do.”

She yanks your hands backwards and you fight with her as she forces your wrists into the cold metal cuffs and loops them through the chair.

“Now, I trust Crowley that you'll play along, otherwise you know the consequences,” she smiles in a horribly sweet way before disappearing into the bedroom and shutting the doors.

“I'm sorry, kitten,” Crowley whispers to you. “I'm going to try and get you out of this mess.”

“Not the romantic evening I had envisaged,” you whisper back, trying to keep a sense of humour.

“Quite,” Crowley laughs softly. “I'll make it up to you sometime, I promise.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. “And thank you for not betraying us...me.”

“I told you I wouldn't,” he smiles warmly. “The King keeps his word.”

There's a commotion outside and you know the Winchesters are here. Crowley stands up, going to the door and not a moment later Dean bursts in, wild eyed and panting aggressively. He's clutching the Blade with an iron grip.

“Hello, Dean. Love the crazy bloodlust in your eyes. Let's not waste time. I'll take you to Abaddon. It's not far,” Crowley says, trying to hint as much as he can without saying anything specific.

“Why the hell is Tabs tied up?!” Dean roars, stomping over to you and tugging at the chain of the handcuffs.

He's suddenly flung against the wall and Abaddon saunters in. Bitch, you think, likes to make an entrance. She's practically grinning all the way up into her eyes as she slowly walks up to the wall.

“A boy and his Blade. And still no match for the new queen. So, first... You'll die... Painfully. And then Crowley will watch his lover die -- ditto -- and then the king himself. And Blade destroyed. That's quite a to-do list,” she ticks off.

“What do you mean, lover?!” Dean yells, searching the room as if someone else would appear.

Abaddon chuckles darkly, walking over to you and presenting you with a wide armed gesture, “Ta da!”

“Stop it!” Dean bellows, fighting against Abaddon's power. The Mark burns brightly on his arm as he moves with laboured steps towards her.

“Oh you didn't know!” she laughs, forcing her will more strongly and Dean slides back against the wall again, dropping the Blade. “Crowley's been all over this one.”

There's an inhuman roar that flies out of Dean's mouth as the First Blade is drawn back into his hand. You're agape as you watch him drop back to the floor. This was not good. Dean shouldn't have powers like that!

Abaddon takes a step backwards as she realises her powers aren't working any more and Dean advances on her, almost running as he plunges the Blade into her stomach with aggressive force. Abaddon screeches as she flashes with red energy, convulsing and writhing.

Sam barrels through the door, spotting you instantly before he turns to Dean and his face pales. You would have expected that that would've been the end of it but as Abaddon's body drops to the floor, Dean is stabbing her over and over again, grunting primally.

“Dean, enough!” Sam cries, trying to pull him away but Dean shoves him aside, whirling round.

You're absolutely terrified. Dean fixes you with such a hateful stare as he strides over to you and you have nowhere to go. You're tied to the chair and you can't cower away.

“Dean!” Sam shouts more urgently. “What are you doing?! Stop it!”

You can see out of the corner of your eye Crowley is trying to hurriedly dig the bullet out of his shoulder.

Dean snaps the handcuff chain, grabbing the front of your blouse and hoisting you up into the air like you weigh nothing. There's pure bloodlust in his eyes as he brings the First Blade up near your face.

“What were you doing here?” he growls.

“Dean! Put me down!” you exclaim. “Crowley and I went to chase up a lead on Abaddon!”

“Dean!” Sam shouts, catching up to his brother and trying to bring his arm, and you, down.

“Squirrel, listen to them!” Crowley hisses, the peak of the bullet almost out of his body.

“You can shut up!” Dean bellows. “Sneaking off in the middle of the goddamn night and with _him_.”

“You promised me you wouldn't do this again!” you say, wildly swinging in his grip. “You're scaring me, Dean! Please!”

That seemed to hit home. Dean's eyes soften and he shakes his head before dropping the Blade to the floor with a heavy clatter and lowering you gently.

“Oh god...Tabs..I'm...ah Jesus, I'm sorry,” he says breathlessly, his eyes flaring wide as he realises what he's done. “I didn't mean-”

Sam pulls him away from you, locking his arms around his brother fiercely. From the right of you, you hear the small clink of a bullet dropping to the table and Crowley is immediately by your side, breaking the cuffs off of your wrists.

“Sam I need to go home,” Dean says in a quiet voice, looking at you with haunted eyes. “Crowley...bring her back whenever she wants to come back.”

“Understood Dean,” Crowley nods.

“Sam,” you call. “Make sure Dean gets back safely.”

There's the smallest glimmer of hope in Dean's eyes when you say that. In truth, you can't be angry with him this time. Abaddon practically taunted him into a rage. You give him a small smile. Sam picks up the Blade and the brothers leave after Sam gives you one of his famous furrowed brow expressions.

God this was such a mess...

“I know it is, kitten,” Crowley says, in response to your thought. “I know...but, if you'll still have me, I'll fix it.”

You turn to him, burying your face in his chest. You don't care if you seemed needy or if you were overstepping some relationship boundary. You just needed the comfort right now. Crowley's arms circle you and he holds you close, stroking your back gently.

“Just...just hold me, Crowley,” you whisper, shaking slightly as the exertion catches up with you.

Crowley breaks the embrace, scooping you up bridal style and walks you to the bed, placing you down under the covers before getting in himself. He draws you up to his chest, looping one arm under your neck and one arm across your waist.

“Just sleep, darling,” he murmurs. “I won't let go, I promise.”

To his credit, he keeps his word as you slowly succumb to the exhaustion and sink into a fitful sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural really does have a GIF for everything. I had so many to choose from for 'Drunk Dean' haha.
> 
> Also, I know I chucked out Gavin from this part of the story but I think you as a reader fits in better here ;)


	15. The Scribe in the Ointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's in a bad way and begs for your help with Metatron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello again!  
> Shorter chapter today because I'm in the middle of night shifts. No smut but we have plot here and some angst.  
> If you wanna send me any private messages, comments or prompts, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com :)  
> Enjoy!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Again, I suck at proofreading)

 

  
  
  
  
“Tabitha, Tabitha wake up,” Crowley says, shaking you slightly.

You guess it's sometime in the morning from the way the sun is hanging high in the sky.

“What's up?” you ask, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep out of your eyes.

“Dean's calling for me,” Crowley says grimly.

“He's summoning you?” you ask, feeling a little more alert.

“Yes,” Crowley nods. “Which means it can't be for anything good.”

“Take me with you,” you say firmly. “He won't try anything if I'm there.”

“I'm not hiding behind your skirts, darling,” Crowley huffs. “I _am_ the King of Hell.”

“I don't care,” you sigh. “I'm not letting anything happen to you.”

Crowley seems stunned. For a brief few moments you're incredibly embarrassed. That came out a little more serious than you'd anticipated. Well great, you'd ruined it now. Crowley probably thought you were coming on far too strong. I mean, what would the King of Hell really want beyond mind blowing sex with you? Sure he was possessive but that didn't equate to....feelings, feelings that spanned beyond his addiction to human blood. There'd been moments where you thought it might be something more but you weren't kidding yourself.

“Would you calm down, kitten?” Crowley says softly. “Your mind is a jumble.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to hide your burning cheeks.

“It's fine, pet,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “You just project very strongly around me. It's hard to tune it out when you're anxious.”

“So you heard that, huh?” you flush.

“Serious...mind blowing sex, which I'm very flattered by the way....possessive...feelings....something more,” he rattles off.

“Christ,” you murmur.

“Leave him out of it,” Crowley chuckles. “Are you worried, Tabitha? Worried about what our dynamic is?”

“Not worried, just...I don't know...” you trail off. “I don't exactly know what _this_ is sometimes and I don't know how to handle it.”

Crowley tips your chin back and gives you a gentle kiss, “Ahh the old 'where do I stand?' conundrum? Do you honestly not know what my intentions are yet, darling?”

“Not really,” you shake your head.

“It's true I want you and want all of you but it's beyond a physical need,” he says, his eyes softening to something akin to affection. “There was something I wanted to say to you after I took you. Do you remember, kitten? Before Abaddon interrupted?”

You nod. He'd been halfway through a sentence when the demons had come into the penthouse.

“Now I have my chance,” Crowley whispers.

The room violently shakes and there's an intense flash of anger across Crowley's face.

“Bloody hell, Dean!” he hisses. “Can the Winchesters not go five sodding minutes without someone to hold their hands?!”

“Maybe in five weeks time we'll get ten minutes to ourselves,” you laugh. “We'd best see what he wants. He's clearly not going to stop calling for you.”

As if on cue, your phone starts ringing and Dean's ringtone of _Cherry Pie_ starts blaring around the room.

Crowley gives you a small smirk and a raised eyebrow, “Really, darling? You chose _that_ song for him?”

“It fits,” you shrug and answer it.

“Tabs?!” Dean is practically yelling into the speaker and you sit bolt upright.

“What's going on, Dean?” you ask.

“Please, you gotta come back and bring Crowley. Stuff is happening to me and I don't know what to do.”

“Woah, calm down,” you say.

“Tabs, I'm scared,” Dean says in a voice that's starting to break. “I don't know who else to talk to. I know you hate me. I messed up again, hell, I almost killed you but you're the only one who understands. Please....Tabs, I need you.”

God, no matter what shit Dean put you through your heart always broke for him when he was like this. You'd already rationalised in your head that last night's incident was not his fault in the slightest. Sure Dean had a wicked temper but it was amplified a thousand fold by the Mark.

“Alright, stay put,” you say. “I'm coming back but you'd better not have eaten all my Jaffa Cakes, Dean-o.”

There's a laugh that seems to break the tension on Dean's side and he gives you the most heartfelt thank you before hanging up.

“Just what the hell is this Mark doing to him?” you ask, looking at Crowley. “He sounds terrified.”

Crowley sighs, standing up and snapping his fingers to gain a fresh suit, “The Mark and the Blade go in tandem. The wearer is driven by a deep need to kill. No killing, the host body starts dying.”

“He's dying?!” you yell.

“Dean's not strong enough to contain the power,” Crowley nods with a locked jaw. “If he doesn't kill things with that Blade....”

“Take me back, right now,” you say, standing up too.

“First thing's first,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers again and you're redressed in your usual attire of jeans and an old 80s band t-shirt. “Give me your hand, darling.”

You take his and he squeezes it gently.

“Crowley?” you ask before he can zap you back to the bunker. “Will you promise me that you'll look out for Dean?”

Crowley looks as though you've asked him to swallow glass, “You're asking too much, pet. He's already hurt you twice now and tried to force himself on you.”

“I know, he's a complete tosser sometimes,” you say hurriedly which earns a small chuckle from your demon. “But you steered him towards getting this Mark in the first place. Can you at least try and look out for his welfare, please? For me?”

Crowley sighs heavily, “You really will be the death of me, Tabitha.”

“Is that a yes?” you ask.

“Fine,” Crowley huffs. “But remember I'm not happy in the slightest about it.”

You let your free hand rest over his chest and you find the pendant outline again. It makes you smile slightly. Crowley's not taken it off since you gave it to him. His hand comes up to rest over yours.

“I know you're not,” you nod. “So I'm extremely grateful.”

“Let's get this over with, pet,” Crowley says impatiently. “I'm not looking forward to not holding you for a while.”

Click!

You both appear in the basement inside the Devil's Trap and it takes you a second to get your bearings before you spot him. Dean. He looks terrible. His cheeks are sunken and hollow and he has a pallor you'd normally associate with the dead.

“Jesus!” you cry out, letting go of Crowley's hand and running over to take Dean by the shoulders. “What's going on?!”

“You tell me,” Dean murmurs weakly. “I can't turn it off! It's like ever since I killed Abaddon it's like this...this high I'm chasing. I need to kill something...like I _really_ need to kill something and I'm holding myself back and-”

“You're yakking your guts out,” Crowley finishes. “It's the Mark.”

“Crowley told me,” you say softly, squeezing Dean's shoulders. “If you don't kill, it's gonna kill you instead.”

“What if I got rid of it?” Dean asks, looking to Crowley.

“You want to get rid?” Crowley asks with a raised eyebrow and you instinctively know that that's not an easy option.

“Ahhh,” Dean sighs. “What I want is Metatron.”

“You're in no state to go after him,” you say firmly.

“Tabitha,” Crowley says. “He needs to.”

“Please,” Dean says quietly. “And I know I'm asking so so much of you here but could you help me, Tabs?”

“Of course,” you nod. “The sooner we get rid of Metatron, the soon we can get rid of the Mark and get you back to your obnoxiously brash self.”

Dean laughs despite himself and hugs you tightly. You can feel Crowley bristling behind you but you brush him off mentally. You were helping your friend. This was nothing more.

“Come on then,” you sigh. “Let's do the typical Winchester thing of cutting one of the family out on a big secret and go.”

“I'll get the Blade, shall I?” Crowley says curtly before momentarily disappearing and reappearing with the jawbone wrapped up in a cloth. “Let's get this little angel killing road trip underway.”

  
  


**

  
  


You all bundle into the Impala and there's a kind of awkward silence that descends. It's clear that Crowley's still incredibly angry with Dean and Dean is still incredibly hurt that you seem to be getting closer to Crowley and that he's pushed you away. It's one big gigantic mess.

You pull up to a diner for a rest stop and sit in one of the booths.

“Coffee, black,” Dean murmurs to the pretty waitress as he spreads his laptop and research notes out on the table.

“Really, Dean?” Crowley admonishes. “You're going to take this girl's table and only order a coffee?”

“Fine,” Dean spits through gritted teeth. “Double cheeseburger. Everything on it. Lotsa onions.”

“And for you?” the waitress asks with a smile.

“Tea and the biggest slab of cake you can find,” you order. Frankly you needed all the energy you could get with these two, even if it came from a cheap sugar high.

“You got it sweetie,” she winks and walks away, casting a glance back at you occasionally.

“Seriously?” Dean says in amazement. “Mission aside, I think you're in there, Tabs.”

“I can confirm you are most definitely 'in there' with her,” Crowley chuckles. “She has good taste.”

“She couldn't handle me,” you laugh, grateful for the pop in the tension bubble. You could almost pretend this was just another day right now with food and good natured teasing.

“You're a one of a kind, sweetheart,” Dean smiles.

And just like that, Crowley was tense again. God, this was going to be a long trip...

“Got a problem, Crowley?” Dean asks, noticing Crowley's stiff posture.

“Not at all,” Crowley says shortly. “Have you?”

“Yeah I got a problem,” Dean says, furrowing his brow as he looks at his laptop. “My problem is Metatron. Right now there's nothing. There's no angel smitings, no crazy acts of God, no vermin, hail. If Metatron's making his move on earth, he is taking his sweet-ass time.”

The bell over the diner door rings out and two people you presume to be demons walk in and hand Crowley a smartphone.

“Never fear, cavalry's here,” Crowley muses, watching the screen as a video plays.

You get distracted by the waitress who sets down the food and you see a small folded napkin with a telephone number on it. The girl was brave, you'd give her that.

You're wolfing down the cake when Crowley passes the phone to Dean and his brows knit further together as he becomes annoyed.

“What's up?” you ask.

“Metatron,” Dean growls. “Looks like he's going all faith healer for the cameras.”

“Wow, guess he has a really bad God complex,” you murmur.

“Where was this taken?” Dean asks Crowley.

“Muncie, Indiana,” Crowley replies. “About two hours ago.”

Dean gets up and begins packing his stuff away.

“Are you not going to eat?” Crowley points out.

“Not hungry,” Dean huffs.

“Dean, I'm not leaving until I've finished,” you chide. “I've not eaten anything yet and I'm going to faint if I keep carrying on, so unless you want cake crumbs in the Impala, hold your horses for a minute.”

Dean sighs and finishes his packing before sitting back down and picking at his fries in a sulky sort of manner.

Eventually you all bolt out of the diner, although you note Dean pockets the napkin with the waitress' number on it.

 

 

**  
  
  


 

The second you pull up near the location where the video was shot, you swallow thickly. Sam is standing there next a car and boy does he look pissed.

“I'll handle it,” Dean says grimly, before getting out. “Stay put.”

You're treated to the sight of yet another Winchester argument where the two of them are clearly butting heads.

“It's like watching animals in the wild,” Crowley groans.

“Brotherly argument number twelve in my presence,” you sigh. “Family, right?”

“Did you fight this much with your brother, pet?” Crowley asks.

“No, I didn't give him the chance to,” you smirk. “Alistair knew his place.”

“I'd expect nothing less,” Crowley laughs. “Bet you bossed him around something rotten, didn't you darling?”

“Still do,” you grin and show him the last text conversation you'd sent him.

  
  


**Alistair: Can I go home yet? I've put on a stone since I've been here, Jodie's relentless and she won't stop feeding me.**

**Tabitha: Not yet and move your lazy arse then and do some exercise.**

**Alistair: God I hate having you for a sister.**

**Tabitha: Love you too, you tosspot.**

  
  


Crowley bursts out into laughter, “I'll never know how your parents produced two radically different children, Tabitha.”

“Me neither,” you smile. “Think they're nearly done yet?” You gesture over to the brothers in front of you.

“I'll find out,” Crowley says before sticking his head out of the window. “So what are we all gollywagging on about? Chop-chop.”

Two angry sets of eyes fall upon him and for a brief moment you wonder if they're going to do a repeat of the situation with Magnus.

“Look, I don't know what you expected here, okay. I don't really care, but you want off the hamster wheel. Get off,” Dean hisses.

“Charming,” Crowley glowers. “You summon me and then you dismiss me.”

You get out of the car at this point. It felt too claustrophobic in there all of a sudden. Crowley gets out as well before coming round to stand next to you.

“I'd say good luck boys if I thought it would help but...it won't,” Crowley says in a vicious tone.

“Go, Crowley,” Sam says forcefully.

Crowley puts a hand on your shoulder, testing what he can get away with in front of the brothers and whispers, “You get in trouble, you call me darling. I don't care what these morons think of it, I'll rip apart the Heavens to keep you safe.”

And just like that he's gone.

Jesus, that was a big statement to leave on! Rip apart the Heavens? You felt that knot curl in your stomach as you wondered precisely what Crowley meant and also wondered what he was going to say to you before Abaddon and then Dean interrupted.

“What the hell did he say to you?” Sam asks, concerned.

“Just that if we get in trouble he'll still help,” you shrug.

“You really have him wrapped around your finger, don't you?” Dean says a little suspiciously.

“You shouldn't be surprised, Dean,” you say cockily, putting your hands on your hips. “I did just get a waitress' number...until you stole it.”

Dean blushes bright red and stammers, “Uh..yeah...ok, fair point, you're hot.”

Sam looks to his older brother with a weird expression but decides not to press the issue.

  
  


**  
  
  


 

On the ride to the homeless camp, Sam fills you in on the information he's gathered. Metatron has been posing as a new Messiah figure, healing ailments and wounds.

You're on the fringe of the settlement when you park up and start loading up on weapons.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

“Oh yeah,” Dean says resolutely before turning around out of the blue and knocking Sam unconscious. “Sorry, little bro, it's not your fight.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you cry, going to check if Sam's ok and still breathing.

“I gotta do this alone,” Dean says.

“If you think you're gonna hit me you've got another thing coming,” you warn, balling your fist ready.

“You know I'd never hurt you, Tabs,” Dean says a little sadly. “I've already done enough of that.”

“Well you're not making me stay,” you hiss.

“Princess,” Dean sighs.

“Don't you 'princess me', Dean Winchester,” you growl. “You're going in there with me and you're gonna lump it.”

There's a half smile that plays across Dean's face before he nods, “You and me 'til the end, Tabs.”

“Let's go,” you say and start walking into the camp.

You're lead by a maniacal follower into a warehouse where Metatron is sat cross legged on the floor, looking for all the world like a cult leader.

“Do I need to say 'namaste'?” you say sarcastically.

“The problem with you and Dean, is the cynicism. Always with the cynicism. But most people, even the real belly crawlers living in filth...Or Brentwood...They don't want to be cynical. They just want something to believe in,” Metatron huffs.

“And that's you?” Dean says angrily.

“Why not” Metatron grins in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“There's blood outside,” you point out. “You're no better than some televangelist cult leader preaching fire and damnation.”

Metatron gets to his feet, his face sporting a pissed off expression, “So I'm a fake. Do you have any idea how much pan-cake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in his name. And for what?! So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves! "Oh, if only I'd been more prayerful, "God would have loved me! God would have saved me!" You know what?! God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them.”

“You're delusional,” you breath, stepping back slightly.

“And you, my dear, are faithless,” he spits back. “I seriously couldn't have written a story like yours, _Tabitha_. The little English girl who betrayed an entire country for two American idiots and then fell for the King of Hell.”

“Shut up!” Dean roars, pulling the First Blade out of his pocket.

Metatron's face splits into a horrible smile, “Oh but the best part of your story is where ol' Dean here is secretly in love with you. That's quite a plot twist!”

Dean delivers a punch that knocks Metatron backwards and you think the angel may be surprised for a second.

“Wow, that big blade and that... douchy tribal tat sure gave you some super juice. Whoo! Okay, guess I hit a nerve there, didn't I?” Metatron laughs.

Dean lunges for him but is thrown high into the air. You take the opportunity to slam your fist into the angel's cheek which, in hindsight, was a stupid move. Metatron just casually flicks his wrist sending you skittering backwards across the floor.

“Tabs!” Dean calls, trying to scramble for you but he's knocked back once again. You can see him drawing on the Blade's power, trying to focus the energy into the jawbone but Metatron just starts chuckling.

“You're powered by the bone of a jackass, and it is just awesome, right? Here's a tip, next time, try to be powered by the word of God,” he sneers before delivering a harsh blow to Dean's chest.

Dean falls to the floor and Metatron just stamps on his wrist. You're sure you hear the bone breaking.

“Dean!” you cry out, jumping back up to your feet and you charge at the angel, forgetting everything you've ever learned about fighting. You're just desperate to stop the brutal punches Metatron is delivering to Dean's face.

At the last possible moment you bear your secreted angel blade, slicing at the Scribe's torso and he yelps in surprise. It takes all of three seconds before you're smacked into the wall so hard you almost lose consciousness then and there.

“Insolent girl!” Metatron roars.

“Hey!” Dean shouts, spitting blood out of his mouth. “Metadouche!”

That struck a nerve. Metatron whirled round and started resuming beating the living daylights out of Dean. You were in full panic mode now. Dean looked barely alive with his face covered in blood and skin swelling with bruises.

You made a last ditch effort to leap onto the angel's back, blade aimed right at the nape of his neck but Metatron turns round and catches you by the throat mid jump, squeezing with a ferocity you'd never felt before.

“Why do you try so hard to save him?” Metatron asked curiously, holding you in the air as if you weighed nothing as you spluttered and writhed. “Surely if you let him die then it's problem solved right? You can live with your demon lover in peace.”

“Get bent,” you hiss.

“Humans,” Metatron sighs, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground on top of Dean.

“Tabs, get out of here,” Dean groans through the pain.

“No,” you say firmly, moving to grab his shirt to pull him up with you.

You watch as Dean's eyes go wide and he bellows, “Tabs!”

You don't have time to react as you're shoved hard off of Dean and you careen into a wooden pallet. You look around just in time to see Sam running into the warehouse and also see Metatron plunging an angel blade deep into Dean's chest where you were lain moments ago.

“NO!” you scream.

“DEAN!” Sam yells, his face stricken as he sprints over.

Metatron just gives you a horrible smile, “This would be an amazing soap opera.”

With that he vanishes and you're left scrambling to Dean's side as Sam scoops up his brother, cradling him in his arms.

“You both gotta go,” Dean coughs, blood pouring from his mouth. “If he comes back-”

“Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shut up. Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? Oh, man. We'll stop the bleeding. We'll...we'll get you a doctor or...or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be okay,” Sam panics, trying to apply pressure to the stab wound.

“It's fine, Sammy,” Dean says weakily. “The Mark...it's making me into something I don't wanna be. I've hurt you, I've hurt you both.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” you plead. “You're gonna be fine.”

“Nah, princess,” Dean smiles faintly. “This is it.”

“Tabitha, help me get him up,” Sam says, his eyes wide.

You both grab one of Dean's arms and hoist him to a standing position. Dean yells in agony and you feel incredibly guilty as you and Sam pull him along to the exit of the warehouse. You make it about halfway before Dean's feet give out.

“Hold up,” Dean grimaces, fresh blood spilling down his chin. “Put me down.”

You both hastily lay him on an upturned box.

“You're such a bloody idiot!” you hiss, frustration setting in as you knead your fists into your skull. “That blade was meant for me. Why the hell did you push me out of the way?!”

“Couldn't let you die, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles and you can hear the blood reverberating in his chest. “For what it's worth, Sammy, I'm proud of us....and Tabs....what Metatron said...it was true.”

The light in his eyes dims and his body relaxes as the life slips out of him.

No no no! This could not be happening!

“Dean!” Sam calls over and over, hugging his brother to his chest tightly and openly weeping.

You just collapse to the floor. Two days ago you were all getting drunk and eating food in the Bunker and now....now Dean was gone. You vaguely register you're crying as you feel the tear drops thud onto your splayed limbs.

This was so messed up...

You look to Sam who's still cradling Dean and he reaches for you. You take his hand and he pulls you into an embrace, him, you and Dean. You have no idea how long you stay like that for but it feels like an eternity.

He's really gone...

  
  


**

 

  
  
Crowley felt an intense wave of grief from you.

He knew he really shouldn't be tapping into your emotions like this but it was one of his mother's more useful spells.

You were tormented, guilt ridden and incredibly sad. That could only mean one thing. A Winchester was dead. Crowley's money was on Dean.

He scoured the last known place the Winchester's had been and found the First Blade discarded on the floor amidst a puddle of blood. He took the Blade, running his thumb along the jagged jawbone before disappearing back to his penthouse.

An hour later he felt the strong pull of a summoning spell and knew Sam must be trying to contact him, to try and broker a deal. He ignored it, instead, he chose to pop into the Bunker near your room.

He saw you curled up on the bed, eyes hollow and staring at the wall. You looked broken. In that moment he so desperately wanted to reveal the secret he'd been keeping about the Mark, to let you know there was speculation that the Mark will never let go of its host. Maybe that would calm your soul, maybe that would ease your guilt.

Crowley briefly scanned your thoughts and they were a jumble of self loathing and an intense need for him to comfort you but you were holding yourself back from contacting him for fear of seeming weak. He sighed quietly. You really had picked up the Winchester habit of torturing yourself. He could even see your phone screen from this angle and he knew you'd rewritten a text to him a dozen times already, too afraid to send it.

“I'll see you soon, my love,” he whispers in a barely perceptible voice and makes his way to Dean's room where Dean's body is lain in state on the bed.

_Will you promise me that you'll look out for Dean?_

Your words echoed in his head. The things he did for love...

“Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now, it's not death. It's life, a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. Let's go take a howl at that moon,” he purred above Dean's body.

Not a moment later, Dean opened his eyes and Crowley saw the inky blackness spread across the irises.

_Maybe this could be fun after all,_ Crowley thought. _Perhaps soon I won't have to hide what we have Tabitha...._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Crowley once said....FEELINGS!


	16. Fever Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's body goes missing and Crowley's stopped returning your calls...what exactly is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Shorter chapter today because I've not had a lot of writing time today.
> 
> Warnings; Some heavy angst and minor smut.
> 
> Remember, if you wanna send me any private messages, comments or prompts, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Also it's past midnight so here comes the proofreading disclaimer - I suck at it)

“Start talking!” you yell into the demon's face, slashing him with your runed blade.

“Eat me,” the demon laughs.

Sam punches the guy where you'd just cut, opening the wound up more and the demon hisses something fierce.

“Where's my brother?!” Sam shouts.

“I don't know!” the guy practically bellows back.

“Wrong bloody answer,” you hiss, sticking the knife into his arm and twisting it viciously.

“You think a Winchester is bad?” Sam says in a dark voice. “Well she's a thousand times worse. Now....where. is. my. brother?!”

 

**

 

 

Gone. Dean's body was gone.

How the hell could this have happened?!

One minute you were lying on the bed sobbing your heart out and the next Sam was rushing in screaming blue murder. You'd raced to Dean's room only to find an empty bed.

Of course the first person you turned to was Crowley and you'd fired off a text when the call wouldn't connect.

 

**Tabitha: Dean's dead and his body has gone missing. Can you call me?**

**Tabitha: I need your help**

**Tabitha: Please**

 

Nothing. You'd left it an hour before you tried again.

 

**Tabitha: Please answer**

**Tabitha: I need you**

 

Still nothing. Was he ignoring you now? He was usually pretty instantaneous with his replies.

Another hour passed and you still didn't have any response. Your heart was beginning to sink slightly. Had he left you high and dry? Was this it?

You did everything you could to take your mind off your burgeoning anxiety. You helped Sam call every hunter out there, you scoured articles for any signs of something being off and you also took care of Sam himself.

He was an emotional wreck. You'd never seen him this resolute and this angry before. Sam was usually the big cuddly teddy bear of the brothers but right now his intensity was frightening.

It wasn't until after you'd tried to torture a demon for Crowley's location that Sam had found a small folded note on his bed that read:

 

_Sammy, let me go_

 

You went into your own room and found one of your own.

 

_Sweetheart, stop looking for me._

 

“You got one too, huh?” Sam says gruffly from the doorway.

“Yeah,” you nod. “What the hell is going on? Does this mean he's not dead?”

“I don't know, Tabitha,” Sam sighs heavily. “And why would he just up and leave like that if he wasn't?”

“Maybe he didn't have a choice or maybe he's just doing the usual Dean Winchester thing of trying to protect us by staying away,” you venture.

“Sounds like him,” Sam says grimly. “Who's to say it's even remotely Dean any more, you know? Maybe my brother did die in that warehouse.”

You grip Sam's face firmly, “Well we're going to find him and find out. I promise you this, Sam. I'm not going to stop until I figure out what's going on.”

“I'm glad you're here, Tabitha,” Sam says quietly, pulling you into a hug.

“Always will be, Sam,” you say resolutely.

_I'll find Dean and then I'll find Crowley. I deserve to know what's going on._

 

**  
  
  
Crowley unwittingly walked in on Dean and some flavour of the week bar girl. Normally he wouldn't have minded but they were in his bed. He may not have many inhibitions left any more but he certainly was not going to sleep on soiled sheets.

He rolled his eyes as Dean hurriedly put some jeans on and felt a buzz in his overcoat pocket. He'd been actively ignoring his phone. The groundwork in grooming Dean was taking a lot of focus and he couldn't afford for it to be derailed by his own feelings.

That's not to say he wasn't infuriated for some unknown reason that Dean, who had declared his undying love for you, had a new girl in his bed in mere hours. Of course he'd been annoyed when Dean had confessed his little parting words about you and really Crowley should be glad that Dean was getting over his infatuation by getting under another woman but....it didn't exactly honour your friendship very well.

Sure Crowley had done the same thing with Lola all that time ago but at least he'd realised he would never be free of his obsession with you and no one would ever match up. Meanwhile, Dean seemed quite happy to seduce anything with legs in a ten mile radius.

Crowley sighed. He wasn't even sure why he was getting so twisted up over this. He just knew that he felt a pang of longing that wasn't going away any time soon.

_I guess I miss her...my spitfire kitten._

He shook his head. He didn't have the time for this. Dean was so close to being groomed into his second in command.

Crowley and Dean drank, they sang terrible karaoke songs, they played foosball.

Another buzz in Crowley's pocket and he couldn't take it any more. He pulled the phone out and read the texts, his thumb stopping over the last one you'd sent, mere seconds ago.

 

**Tabitha: Guess I have my answer on where I stand.**

 

“Bollocks!” he swears out loud, causing Dean to miss on the foosball table.

“Hey, I can't play the game if you're not gonna shut up!” Dean hisses.

Crowley had left it too long. You obviously thought he didn't want you any more. He briefly muttered the words of his mother's spell and found your swirl of emotions.

Hurt, rejection, betrayal, anger.

_Oh kitten..._

There was nothing he could do. Nothing would salvage this. He couldn't reveal himself because he knew Sam was looking for him to track Dean.

Well he was well and truly buggered now.

_I should never have promised to look after Dean. Not at her expense._

He just sat, drinking his obscenely coloured Strawberry Daiquiri in his drunken haze as the sounds of Dean punching somebody rang around his ears.

 

 

**

 

You were following a lead with Sam and you're stood there in your 'FBI' suit, feeling like Dana Scully again as Sam introduced you both to the police officer.

“Agents Buckingham and Nicks, FBI,” he said, and you both flashed your badges. “We're here to see the footage we spoke about?”

“Oh yeah, sure, this way,” the officer nods.

He shows you footage of a gas station where you instantly spot a familiar face on the video.

It's Dean. It's Dean and he's alive....and he's also looking at a porn magazine.

You catch Sam's eye and he looks just as bewildered as you.

You watch as a man attempts to stab him but Dean kills him with the First Blade before you see a brief flash and your heart drops.

“Mind if we take a closer look?” you ask.

“Knock yourself out,” the officer shrugs before going to get himself a coffee.

Frame by frame you wind through the video until you stop on an image of Dean's face.

He's got completely black eyes.

“Goddamnit, Dean,” Sam whispers quietly.

“We've gotta go there,” you say firmly. “They might have more information about what went down.”

“I agree, let's hit the road,” Sam nods.

 

**

  
  
  
You're at the Gas N' Sip, looking around the store whilst Sam questions the cashier.

“Agents Buckingham and Nicks, huh?” the guy laughs. “Do they have an Agent Fleetwood too 'cause that's mighty coincidental.”

“Oh you wouldn't believe it,” you laugh, doing your fake chirpy American accent. “You know there's an FBI partner team called Sherlock and Moriarty? Just kills me every time they have to make a report!”

“Well how about that,” the guy smiles. “Yeah I saw porn guy.”

“You saw what went on and you did...nothing?” Sam says, sceptically.

“You mean when porn guy was stabbing the other guy to death 10 feet in front of me, and I was having a total code-brown moment in my favourite freakin' pants because I thought I was next, did I conduct a field interview?...No....Oh, by the way, can you do me a solid? Found this wedged under the T.P. I think it's the dead guy's phone.”

Sam grabs it quickly from his hand and shows you a text message.

 

**Winchester. Amherst Junction, WI Gas n' Sip B/W 11a-12p. Long live Abaddon**

 

“Abaddon?” you say puzzled.

“Guess there are still some fanatics out there,” Sam shrugs. “Probably want to get revenge on Dean for killing her. Shall I call the number?”

You nod, pulling him outside and to the Cortina and you both sit in the seats before Sam calls the number, setting it on speaker-phone so you can hear.

“You're dead,” the gruff voice of Crowley comes through on the line and you instantly feel a boiling rage inside you.

“Just using a dead man's phone,” Sam says, motioning for you to keep quiet.

“Moose....took you long enough,” Crowley chuckles.

“I know you have some demon parading around in Dean's body, Crowley. You're gonna pay for that,” Sam hisses.

“Moose. Moose. Moose...I'm afraid you haven't allowed yourself to dream quite big enough here. Your brother is very much alive, courtesy of the mark. And the only demonised soul inside of Dean is his and his alone. Wee bit more twisted, a little more mangled beyond human recognition, but, I can assure you, all his. There, now. Feel better?”

“I don't know how you did this but I will save him or die trying,” Sam practically yells into the phone. You can see him balling his fists up.

“You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's _really_ eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. “The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel." Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens,” comes the mirthful response.

“I haven't been a demon,” you say quietly, not able to contain yourself any more and Sam gives you a reproachful eyebrow.

There's a long pause on the line.

“......Tabitha,” Crowley says, his voice changing in tone drastically.

“We will find you,” you hiss. “And then I'd like a little chat if you don't mind.”

The line clicks off the second you finish the sentence.

“Is it just me or was Crowley sounding scared of you then?” Sam asks.

“He'd better be scared,” you say grimly.

_Hell hath no fury and all that._

 

 

_**_

 

The second Crowley heard your voice on the line his metaphorical stomach dropped. He'd never heard that acrid tone in your voice. Instantly he could tell you were furious.

_Buggering bollocking arse..._

He could barely keep his mind on the conversation he was having with Dean.

“Hey,” Dean barked. “The deal was we howl at the moon. No time stamp, no expiration date.”

Really this was getting tedious now.

“We've howled. We've bayed, all of which have been massively entertaining. I will treasure our Flickr albums forever. But now it's time for us to accept what we are and go back to work,” Crowley said with a worn out voice.

It'd been hard for him not to slip into his true demonic ways, to join Dean in the heady combination of drink, anarchy and sex. He'd managed the sex part just fine but everything else was just becoming dull now. The karaoke bar was now grating on him and he could smell the filth of the patrons much more than before.

Time to play his hand, so to speak.

“Think of it. The King of Hell, Dean Winchester by his side. Together we rule. Together we create the perfect hell. And all of this that's bloomed between us never ends. We're not ending the party. We're just moving the party,” he says with a wide gesture.

Dean seems completely uninterested so Crowley tries a different tactic.

“Oh by the way, I spoke to Moose and Tabitha earlier.”

“What?!” Dean yells.

“They've been tracking us,” Crowley shrugs. “They don't seem best pleased.”

“I can't let her see me like this Crowley!” Dean roars. “Damnit! I went out on the perfect note! A goddamn hero to her!”

“If it makes you feel any better, she's angry with me as well,” Crowley offers, taking a sip of some dive bar scotch and grimacing at the cheap taste.

“It doesn't make me feel better,” Dean hisses. “In fact, it makes me question whether Metatron was right and you two do have some starcrossed lover bullcrap going on. It would explain a lot.”

“Jealousy is not a pretty colour to wear, Dean,” Crowley smirks, raising his eyebrow.

“Actually, you know what?” Dean says aggressively. “Maybe it does make me feel better because if you two _are_ a thing, you've royally screwed it by being here with me. Now she'll see you for what you really are.”

“I don't know what's going on with you. I truly don't. But I've had just about enough of it,” Crowley spits, standing up off of his seat. “Everything I've done for you, the mark, the First Blade, midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side, has been a favour, a gift, whether you see it or you don't. Take the night. Decide. You know where to find me.”

With that he disappears to his penthouse but not before stopping off in your room to grab one of your jumpers. He lays there on the bed, letting the scent of you wash over him.

_Dean's right...I have royally screwed it._

Click!

The spellbook just pops into his hands and he turns to a page he never thought he'd have to use...

**A Spell To Enter Dreams.**

 

 

_**_

 

 

You lay there on the bed, surrounded by the clothes you'd thrown in a rage across the bedroom.

How could he?

You asked him never to betray you and he did just that...

“Shit,” you hiss, covering your face in your hands.

You were such an idiot. How on earth did you ever think the King of Hell was anything more than a demon? Why had you allowed yourself to start caring for him? Why had you slept with him?

“Can't sleep?” Sam says, hovering in the doorframe.

“No,” you grumble.

“Here,” Sam says, chucking you a small pill packet. “I just took some, you should probably take some too. We're gonna need all the sleep we can get.”

“Thanks, Sam,” you say, forcing yourself to smile.

“Get some rest,” he nods before closing your door and disappearing back to his own room.

You stare at the pill packet for a time, unsure of what to do before the overwhelming urge to pass out for a few hours takes hold. You pop the sleeping tablets into your mouth and swallow, laying back into the pillows and just waiting....

Gradually the lull of slumber pulls you under.

 

 

“ _I've sealed off the throne room, darling,” Crowley says with a conspiratorial wink._

“ _Oh have you now?” you say, arching an eyebrow._

“ _Come, pet,” Crowley says, taking your hand and leading you to the throne. “Let me fulfil this lifelong dream.”_

“ _Absolutely sure we won't get interrupted?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at the double doors._

“ _Very sure,” Crowley nods, sitting on the throne and pulling you into his lap. “My minions know I'll kill them if they try to get in here.”_

“ _Oh well in that case,” you smirk, letting your hands wander over his chest as you grind slightly on his lap._

“ _Oh kitten,” Crowley rasps, clasping your thighs and you see the flash of red in his eyes. “Aren't you just...delicious?”_

“ _Gonna help me with these?” you tease, pulling at your clothing._

“ _Somebody's eager,” Crowley chuckles, snapping his fingers to leave you bare as well as him._

“ _Doesn't feel like you're complaining,” you say pointedly, letting your fingers drop to his hard cock._

“ _Never,” he rumbles. “Now why don't you give the King of Hell a show, darling? I want to see you come undone for me.”_

_You roll your hips forward slightly, feeling the skin to skin contact and Crowley lets out a low groan._

 

Wait...something was wrong....

 

“ _Kitten, don't stop,” Crowley urges, taking your hips in his hands and moving your body against him._

 

I was mad at him, wasn't I?

 

“ _Darling,” Crowley says, the lust dropped from his voice. “Darling we need to talk.”_

“ _I thought you wanted to fuck,” you say, raking your nails down his chest._

“ _Oh bloody hell, you're distracting,” he moans. “Tabitha, you're dreaming right now. Stop doing that. We need to speak.”_

 

I'm dreaming?

 

“ _What's going on?” you ask, becoming acutely aware that you're naked on top of him._

“ _I may have...inserted myself into your dreams,” Crowley says cryptically._

“ _Is this you talking or am I processing some weird subconscious vibe?” you ask._

“ _Definitely me,” Crowley nods. “I robbed my mother's spellbook so we could speak in private.”_

“ _Ok,” you say, getting off of him and he makes no move to stop you. “Can I have my clothes back then?”_

_Instantly you're dressed again._

 

I was mad at him because he abandoned me. He stole Dean. He turned him into...into a demon.

 

“ _If I punch you in this dream, will you feel it?” you ask._

“ _No, pet,” Crowley says, a little stoically._

“ _Shame.”_

“ _Alright, that was well deserved,” Crowley sighs, redressing himself and crossing one leg over the other. “I'd like to explain myself.”_

“ _What is there to explain, Crowley?” you angrily hiss. “You just up and left. You didn't give me any explanation, you just abandoned me!”_

_Crowley looks incredibly ashamed._

“ _And to make matters worse, I find out you're harbouring Dean! Only he's not properly Dean any more! He's your demon BFF!”_

“ _Kitten...” Crowley tries to say but you cut him off._

“ _Just one text. You could have at least given me that courtesy,” you spit. “Even to say you didn't want to see me again. At least I wouldn't have been stuck in this emotional limbo.”_

“ _Kitten, I-”_

“ _You know what, it's my fault for ever believing there was something good in you. Shame on me.”_

“ _TABITHA!” Crowley roars, losing his temper and standing up from the throne._

_You fall silent. You'd never really been on the receiving end of one of Crowley's outbursts and it was a little bit terrifying._

“ _You bloody told me to look after Dean Winchester, so I did!” he shouts. “I did that for you!”_

“ _You let him become a demon!” you yell back._

“ _I'm trying to help him understand it! The Mark will never let go. Did you want me to let his soul become twisted to the point of no return?!” Crowley's almost apoplectic with rage. “I could've let that happen, you know!”_

“ _No...I....” you stammer._

“ _Didn't bloody think so!” Crowley hisses. “You want me to keep a promise, I keep it!”_

“ _Except one,” you say, trying to ignore the rising lump in your throat. “I said never hurt me, Crowley....and you did.”_

_Crowley flips over the torch bracket next to the throne, letting the embers spill across the stonework and fade out into ash. You can see the dim light reflected in Crowley's furious eyes._

“ _So we're done here,” you continue, trying to force some confidence into your voice. “I'm going to wake up now.”_

“ _I never meant to hurt you, Tabitha,” Crowley says quietly before turning to you with a serious face. “Everything I did, I did for you.”_

_You say nothing._

 

I can feel myself stirring to alertness again, the edges of the dream are fading into black and the light is becoming dimmer. I'll be awake soon.

 

“ _I did it because I love you,” Crowley whispers, holding out his hand towards you._

 

 

 

You sit bolt upright in the bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving. Your t-shirt was completely stuck to you in that fever dream sort of way and you hurriedly pull it off, feeling the cool air hitting your skin.

Did that actually just happen or did you completely dream that?

A few seconds later your phone pings, illuminating your dark room and you grab for it, the light making your eyes hurt. It takes you a few seconds to adjust but you see it.

A text from Crowley:

 

 

**Not Lover: Told you I thought of you as something more, pet.**

 

 

Guess it wasn't just a dream after all...

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might get a full rendition of that Throne piece sometime in the future haha.


	17. Demon Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets in trouble and you need to find Dean....but that also means running into Crowley again and after last night's confession, you're not sure what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon!  
> Have a healthy sized chapter :)  
> Warnings: Slight trigger warnings with Dean.  
> If you have any private questions or comments or even one shot ideas, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com.
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Again, I suck at proofreading)

You got up, desperate to get a drink and you stood in the kitchen for what seemed like ages, endlessly downing cups of water.

It took you a while to realise Sam's jacket wasn't on the coat rack. You curiously made your way to his room, knocking on the door and waiting for a while before you went in. He was gone.

What the hell?

Had he lied about taking the tablets so you'd fall asleep and he could leave?!

Immediately you dug your phone out and tried to call him. It rings for a long time before it picks up.

“Sam?” you ask.

“And who is this?” another male voice says with irritation.

“I asked first, arsehole,” you hiss.

“Sam's busy at the moment, babycakes,” comes the disinterested reply and you can hear him talking in the background with a voice you recognise to be Sam's. “Oh, you're his family apparently. Strange kinda family where they're American and you're not...but ok, I'll roll with it. Tell me where Dean is and I'll let Sam go.”

“I have no clue where Dean is,” you say, starting to panic.

“Wrong answer,” the voice laughs and you hear Sam screaming in pain.

“Stop it!” you yell into the speaker.

“You find Dean and you bring him to me. Then I'll stop,” the guy barks down the line.

“Just who the hell are you?!”

“If you wanna play the name game, I'm Cole. What about you, darlin'?” he says, almost mirthful in his tone.

“Tabitha,” you say quickly. “Let me promise you this, _Cole_ , if you've harmed Sam you'd better prepare yourself because I'm not somebody to be trifled with.”

There's a long laugh of disbelief on the other end, “Are you for real?! I can't wait to meet you then. When you find Dean, call me.”

The line clicks off.

No, no, no!

This was becoming the worst week of your life. Losing Dean, finding out he's a demon, Crowley betraying your trust and now Sam was kidnapped by some mysterious psychopath going all Buffalo Bill as far as you could tell.

You needed to find Dean...and quickly. Your money was on a bar somewhere, maybe a seedy motel. That didn't really narrow it down though.

Maybe you could track Crowley's phone. The two seemed to be glued together if what Crowley intimated was true.

Soon enough, you saw the telltale ping off a cell tower on Sam's tracking software. Yep, Crowley was definitely in a bar.

You grabbed your coat after showering and redressing and headed out.

  


**

  
  
You were nervous, stood outside the bar like some kind of wallflower. You weren't even sure what you were more afraid of. Was it the fact Dean might be nothing like himself any more or that you'd have to face Crowley again?

You took a deep breath, pulling up your mental big girl pants and stepped in.

Immediately you saw them, hunched over at the bar. Dean had a beer in his hand and Crowley had a luminous cocktail with a bizarre tiny umbrella.

Silently you approached, eavesdropping on their conversation.

“-Face it, darling. You're an addict. Death is your drug. And you're gonna spend the rest of your life chasing that dragon,” Crowley purrs.

“So?” Dean says gruffly.

“So...I'm here to facilitate,” Crowley answered, taking the umbrella out of the cocktail and twirling it between his fingers.

“You want me to kill for you,” comes the unimpressed reply from Dean.

“I want you to kill for _us_. Look...You're going to snap eventually. The anger, the bloodlust is gonna build up in you until you can't take it any more, and then... So, the question is, do you want to spike a civilian or someone who has it coming?”

“I know someone who has it coming,” you chip in, standing behind the two men.

You'd never seen two demons jump higher in your life.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean roars, almost dropping his beer and turning around wildly to see you.

Well he certainly didn't look any different, ashamed maybe but that was all you could tell.

“Did I scare you, boys?” you say with your arms folded, putting on your best bitch face.

“Tabitha,” Crowley mumbles, not looking directly into your eyes.

“What are you doing here, Tabs?” Dean asks, semi aggressively.

“Sam's been kidnapped,” you say bluntly. “Some psycho has him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean shrugs.

“Excuse me?” you stutter, not sure if you quite heard that right.

“Sam got into his own mess,” Dean says in a blasé manner. “Not my problem.”

You lose your temper, knocking the beer bottle of his hand and grabbing him by the scruff of the shirt, slamming his torso into the bar counter, “Listen here, you Yankee idiot! I did not listen to Sam getting tortured for you to just throw your hissy fit! You're going to save your brother and kill the bastard who took him!”

“It's not your problem, Tabs!” Dean spits. “Neither is it mine! I don't care what happens to Sam!”

“Stop lying to me,” you hiss. “I know Dean Winchester is still in there, the Dean who sacrificed himself countless times for his brother.”

Dean grabs your hands, pulling them away from his shirt and pushing you backwards, “That ain't me any more, princess. Cry into your pillow all you want but I'm done with him.”

“And me?” you ask, shaking as you tried to control your rage.

“You don't matter any more,” Dean shrugs. “Neither of you do.”

He doesn't see your fist coming as it slams into his cheek, sending him careening to the side and onto the floor.

“Hey!” the bartender yells and you feel several pairs of hands gripping your arms, pulling you away from Dean.

“Let go of me!” you hiss, trying to twist out of their grasp.

“Woah there, little lady,” one of the doormen says. “You need to cool off, ok? Take your relationship drama outside.”

You hear a low growl from behind you, “Get. Off. Her. Now.”

“You all wanna go outside? Fine with me,” the doorman says, continuing to drag you out with his security team.

They dump you unceremoniously in the parking lot, you falling flat on your face onto the tarmac and scraping your hands. You hear brief shrieks and screams of agony behind you and you whirl around, scrambling to your feet and burst back into the bar.

Oh god.

There was blood everywhere and splayed limbs. Dean was standing in the centre of the room, panting hard as he gripped the First Blade. Crowley was stood next to him, covered in blood with an expression of pure anger on his face.

“What the hell did you do?” you almost whisper.

“I asked them to let go of you, pet,” Crowley rumbles.

“They hurt you,” Dean growls, looking at your scuffed up hands.

“You killed them...” you trail off, your mind not fully processing the sheer number of bodies around you. “You killed every single one of them...”

“They got what they deserved,” Crowley says simply, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the remnants of gore from his face. “They dared to touch you.”

“They didn't deserve _that_ ,” you say, gesturing out. “You know what, stay away from me. The both of you.”

“Tabs, wait,” Dean calls softly but you don't listen.

You back out of the bar, trying not to be sick and run to the Cortina, throwing yourself in and stuffing your fist against your mouth trying to stifle the cry of horror that was working its way up your throat.

God, Crowley killed them all. He just wiped out a bunch of innocent people for doing their job. How could you ever have been so stupid to believe he was good at heart?!

You start the engine and are about to pull away when Dean gets into the passenger seat.

“Get out,” you say firmly.

“I need to talk with you. Alone,” Dean says quietly. “Please...”

You eye him for a time, debating whether to trust him before you put your foot on the accelerator and speed off, leaving the bloodbath behind.

  


**

  
  
“I shouldn't have done that,” Dean said, watching you walk out of the door. “I went too far.”

“Happens when you try to hide your feelings,” Crowley mutters.

_Trust me, I should know_

“I'm done with this, Crowley,” Dean shakes his head. “I'm going after her. I need to apologise.”

“Tell me Dean,” Crowley says in a dangerously low voice. “Are you a demon, or a human? Can't be having those pretty black peepers and running around with me and then still mooning over your human crush. Why don't you pick a bloody side for once?!”

“I am, I pick hers,” Dean grunts.

“Fine. It's over,” Crowley huffs. “What can I say? Crazy ones, well, they're good for a fling, but they're not relationship material.”

He watched Dean leave and saw him get into your car. He fully expected you to throw him out but instead you just left with him.

He felt a hollow sensation in his chest as he saw the car speed down the road. Why did you take him with you? You just said you didn't want anything to do with either of them. Hell, you gave him a look just now like you were disgusted with him, him and Dean.

Or maybe...maybe that was just reserved for him. Maybe you'd truly meant what you said, that you were done with this.

Well if he couldn't have you, neither could Dean.

He pulled out his phone.

  


**Moose calling...**  
  


  


**

  
  
You parked up in some lay-by on the freeway, keen to still be in contact with passing motorists but away from everyone else in case Dean went crazy again.

“Ok, spill,” you bark.

Dean sighs heavily, “Look I didn't want you to see me like this. I'd hoped you'd just kinda go away and forget about me. Then you didn't. I totally didn't expect you to track me that quickly....how did you by the way?”

“Crowley's phone is easily traceable,” you shrug.

“Ok....” Dean says, rubbing his neck. “Kinda weird you have his number-”

“Like you and Sam both did, you mean?” you sass, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess that's fair,” Dean says. “I just freaked, you know? Thought if I said something mean then maybe you'd run far away from me. You got a wicked punch by the way. I'm sure that would've hurt a lot if I was still...still...”

“Human?” you add.

“Yeah...” Dean says, shifting uncomfortably. “And then those guys grabbed you and I just kinda saw red. I didn't realise what I was doing until you walked back in and man, I never want to see that expression on your face again. I felt like crap. Worse than crap. I can't believe I did that.”

“You killed innocent people, Dean,” you say, gripping the steering wheel tightly and looking ahead. “They were just doing a job and throwing out what they thought was a rowdy patron.”

“I know,” Dean murmured. “And Crowley didn't help exploding guys left and right. It almost fuelled it more.”

“I don't know what to say, Dean,” you say grimly. “That was...horrible.”

“I'm sorry. I truly am,” Dean whispers. “I wanted you to remember me as the guy who took an angel blade for you, not the demon that just wiped out a whole bar of civilians. God, this is so messed up.”

He buries his face in his hands.

“You can make it right,” you state. “Save Sam. That Cole guy, he's going to kill him.”

“If he hasn't already,” Dean mutters.

“This is Sam, we're talking about, remember?” you smirk. “Mr Finds-a-way-out-of-everything.”

“Tabs,” Dean says in a shaky voice. “I'll need your help. I can feel this taking over me and it's switching my emotions off. Don't let me lose my brother and don't let me do something like that again. Just between us, please?”

“Fine,” you nod. “No third chances though, Dean. You ever kill an innocent again, I'll have to-”

“Put me down, I got it,” Dean agrees. “I know Sammy can't do it so you'll have to.”

“Let's go save the big galoot,” you say, turning the key in the ignition and starting the car once more.

“Can I just say one thing?” Dean mutters quietly. “I'm pretty embarrassed about what I said while I was dying...I didn't expect to come back.”

“It's fine,” you waive it off. “Death has a funny habit of pulling all sorts of confessions up. I don't hold it against you.”

“Thanks, princess,” he smiles slightly. “I'm glad you didn't give up on me.”

“I need a knighthood,” you sigh. “No scratch that, a sainthood for putting up with you two.”

“Saint Tabitha,” Dean laughs. “I dig it.”

“Patron Saint of Winchesters,” you chuckle.

There's a flare of humanity back into Dean's eyes as he holds your gaze and you're mesmerised by the change from aggression to gentleness. Dean deftly unclips his seatbelt before leaning over, taking your face in his hand and kissing you.

This man had a real habit of doing this out of the blue!

You want to say you should have pushed him away again at that point but with Crowley's betrayal still heavy on your heart, some part of you wants this to continue to get back at him. It wasn't like Dean wasn't attractive after all.

_He just wasn't Crowley._

You shake that intrusive thought away, allowing yourself to kiss Dean back. It's different. Crowley is all passion and the harsh brush of his beard but Dean is gentle and considerate. At least he was until you started reciprocating.

Dean's almost crawling onto your seat, his hands starting to roam from your face down to your shoulders whilst his other one cups your waist, kneading the soft flesh.

_This is wrong._

Dean's becoming more aggressive now, hungry almost, fully straddling you on the seat and pinning you there.

“Stop, Dean,” you say, trying regain your breath.

Dean just keeps viciously exploring with his hands, his mouth dragging along your neck.

“Dean, stop!” you say more forcefully.

He's trying to unbutton your jeans, no, he's trying to _rip_ them off of you.

“DEAN!” you panic, shoving him back so he falls into the car horn, the sound echoing loudly. “Stop it!”

He opens his eyes wide, the retinas completely black until he realises where he is and they flick back instantly to green.

“Oh god, Tabs, I didn't mean...” he babbles, immediately scrambling off you and pressing himself as far as he can go into the passenger door. “Goddamnit! I can't control this! I didn't mean to go so far!”

“Lets just...let's not speak about that ever again,” you say, righting your jeans and subconsciously shivering.

Just how far would he have tried to go if you hadn't of pushed him off?

You didn't want to think about that right now. In fact, all you could think about was that you'd just made a horrible mistake. You really didn't want Dean at all. All you wanted was Crowley. How pathetic was that?

You must be messed up in the head. Dean was everything you should want. He was attractive, held the same interests, told the same awful jokes and he was one of the heroes. But Crowley...he was dangerous, exuded sex appeal and charm and he was powerful...also more often a villain than a hero.

“Ok,” Dean nods. “I...I've just made this ten times more awkward now.”

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I really shouldn't have encouraged that.”

“It's not your fault, sweetheart,” Dean says gently. “It's mine. Just forget I did that.”

Your phone ringing snaps you both out of your clunky conversation. It's Sam.

“Sam, is that you?” you ask, hoping it's not going to be that Cole guy again.

“It's me,” Sam says and you instantly relax. “I got away.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” Sam says quickly. “Tell me you haven't gone after Cole, Tabitha. He's dangerous.”

“No, I went to find Dean,” you explain.

“Thank god,” he sighs. “Ok, I'll text you some co-ordinates. Meet me there.”

“Sure thing,” you say and Sam hangs up.

Not a minute later you get a text with a link to your Maps app and see he's in a bar across town. Mentally you try and shove the image out of your head of the bar you were just in.

“We're going to see Sam,” you tell Dean, driving out of the lay-by and down the freeway.

  


**  
  
  


You pull up, having to practically drag Dean into the bar. He's reluctant and you see the closer he gets to the door, the more he's putting up that aggressive front.

Eventually you go in.

Sam's sat in the bar and you're surprised to see he's knocking a beer back. Usually he never drinks during the day.

It's like he can sense you're close because he speaks without turning round, “Crowley sold you out, you know Dean.”

“Figures,” Dean grunts.

You feel a pang of guilt at the mention of Crowley's name but you bury it.

“We're gonna fix this, you know,” Sam says firmly.

“What...a little blood, a few syringes and it'll be peachy keen?” Dean scoffs. “And we'll ride off into the sunset? It's not a Lifetime movie, Sam. There is no happy ending to this.”

Sam brings out the demon cuffs and fiddles with them. He finally turns around and you see the bruises across his face.

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” you exclaim. “You said you were ok!”

You can't help but go up to him, trying to check for other injuries.

“I _am_ ok,” Sam says, pulling you behind him as he gets in between you and Dean. “Tabitha, you stay behind me.”

“You think those are gonna work, Sam?” Dean asks, pointing to the cuffs.

“One way to find out,” Sam almost growls.

There's a crash as the window explodes into shards of glass and a cannister rolls onto the floor, spewing gas out into the bar. You take a quick deep breath, holding it but Sam fully inhales and begins spluttering wildly. You grab him, pulling him to the door and shoving him out and you run back across the room, trying to find Dean through the haze of smoke. He's not there any more.

You dash outside, your lungs burning for air and you take a deep shuddering breath as you reach the outside.

Goddamnit! Sam was splayed out unconscious on the floor and you round the corner to the alleyway to see the back of a guy who was squaring off with Dean.

“-Well, I had a better idea. I figure if I let your bro escape, he'd go running to you, and all I had to do was just tag along. And now here we are, finally, Dean Winchester,” you hear the guy say.

You pull out your revolver, audibly clicking the safety mechanism and the guy leaps to the side, his eyes flitting back from you to Dean. You can see he's military. That's written all over his stance and his expression, a kind of cold discipline.

“Tabitha, right?” the guy says.

“Cole, I presume,” you fire back, keeping your gun trained on him.

“I was imagining this tiny little British girl who'd try to slap me,” he laughs. “I'm actually impressed.”

“I'll slap you if you want,” you sass. “Slap you with a bullet. In the head.”

“Oh you're precious,” Cole snorts. “My issue isn't with you, darlin', it's with this monster.”

“And why do you want Dean so bad?” you ask.

“Apparently he wanted to do an Inigo Montoya,” Dean scoffs. “'You killed my father, prepare to die'. Really this guy has no idea what he walked into.”

“You killed his father?” you say bewildered.

“Hell if I know,” Dean shrugs.

“Oh that's great,” Cole hisses. “You don't even remember, do you? I spent half my life training for this moment. I've played out this fight a thousand times in my mind....”

“Oh just shut up and fight, you whiny bitch,” Dean spits, bringing the First Blade out.

The two men dive at each other. There's no clear line of sight for you to drop Cole with a well placed round so you decide to check on Sam. Dean could clearly handle himself. The issue was handling the aftermath.

“Sam, wake up,” you say, shaking the big guy.

There's horribly vicious noises coming from behind you but you ignore them until the sound of Cole screaming makes you turn around. Dean has him pinned against the wall, the First Blade to his throat. For a second, you freeze. Dean's already killed a lot of people today and you're afraid he won't be able to stop if he kills one more. How twisted was his soul going to become if you let him do this?

“Dean!” you call and you see the muscles flex in hesitation in his arm.

“Do it! You said if you saw me, you would kill me, so do it!” Cole roars into Dean's face.

“I guess I changed my mind,” Dean shrugs, slamming Cole into the wall before he lets him crumple to the floor.

You feel a rush of air behind you as Sam suddenly springs up, throwing holy water over Dean who shouts in pain before there's the click of handcuffs and Sam is standing there with a resolute expression.

“It's over, Dean!” Sam says, dragging his brother to the Impala.

You stand up, locking eyes with Cole who seems absolutely terrified.

“He's a demon,” Cole whispers.

“For now,” you nod. “And for now, you should stay away.”

“Not gonna happen,” Cole hisses, stumbling to his feet.

You catch sight of his wedding ring and chance something, “How is your family going to feel if this kills you, huh?”

“Shut up, you Brit bitch,” Cole spits. “You don't have the right to talk about my family!”

“Fine,” you sigh, holding your hands up. “On your head be it.”

You turn your back and go to the car to see Crowley standing there, fondling the First Blade as Dean is handcuffed in the back.

“What are you going to do?” Sam asks, leaning against the door.

“Toss it into a volcano, leave it on the Moon. I'll get creative. Believe me, I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. Your brother knows I ratted. He tends to hold a grudge. I don't want to get...Boned,” Crowley muses.

“This doesn't make us even you know,” Sam says, folding his arms. “We're still gonna-”

“Oh Samantha, you're such a tease,” Crowley winks before he spots you, holding your gun.

“Tabitha, I'm gonna take Dean back,” Sam calls to you. “You gonna be ok?”

“Yeah I'll be fine,” you nod. “Be safe, ok? Keep in contact until you get back. I won't be far behind.”

“Will do,” Sam says before getting in the car and driving off.

“I take it you've stopped avoiding me,” Crowley says, tucking the First Blade into his coat. He sighs for a second before he must have caught something from your brain because he tenses and you see a vein twitching in his neck. “You did what...”

“Huh?” you ask, confused.

Crowley stalks over to you, grabbing your arm and you appear in the penthouse as you're slammed against one of the walls.

“You kissed _Dean_ ,” Crowley says in pure disgust. “What, you got a taste for the demonic and decided to branch out?”

You can't even speak. You feel this incredible wave of regret and guilt that steals the words out of your mouth.

“I opened myself up to you, Tabitha,” Crowley growls. “And that's what you do?”

“It was a mistake,” you squeak out. “It shouldn't have happened.”

“You're bloody right it shouldn't have happened!” Crowley hisses. “And how was it, Tabitha? Did Dean scratch that itch for you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you admit, thinking about all the emotions you felt when Dean had kissed you.

“That's right, kitten,” Crowley says, his hands pinning your wrists to the wall and his face against your neck. “He'll never be me and you'll _always_ be mine.”

“Crowley, I-” you start but a harsh bite at your neck stops your sentence in its tracks.

“I know I hurt you, pet. I know that. This is not...easy for me,” he says, against your ear. “I saw how much I'd upset you, I saw how much I'd disgusted you in that bar and it left me cold. I'll make you a promise right now, Tabitha. I will never earn that look from you again if you'll come back to me, if you'll never run to Dean again for comfort.”

Crowley's mouth was almost on yours, ghosting ever so slightly until the ping of your phone snaps you out of the moment.

“Go ahead, pet,” Crowley nods, leaning back slightly and allowing you to look at your mobile.

  


**Sam: Got back ok. Stuffing Dean into the basement. You gonna be much longer?**

**Tabitha: Just making sure Crowley hides the First Blade well, then I'll be back.**

**Sam: Good thinking. Be safe. If you're not here in three hours, I'll send Jodie to find you.**

**Tabitha: Please God, anything but that....**

  


You place the phone back in your pocket and look to Crowley who seems to be studying you intently.

“Do you have an answer for me, darling?” Crowley purrs, taking your hand and kissing the back of it gently.

Frankly your mind was still thinking about him pressing you into the wall a minute ago and how close he was to kissing you. You'd not even thought about his question yet.

He must have caught that train of thought because he chuckles and presses his body flush to yours, “Or perhaps I'm to take my answer in a more...physical setting?”

Instantly you feel a heat flushing through you as he turns his predatory gaze onto yours. In that moment, you knew you'd forgiven him for abandoning you and you just leaned forward, closing the distance between your lips.

As he kisses you deeply, it feels familiar, it feels correct. You don't get those same warning signals even though you really should. This demon had just murdered a bunch of innocent bar staff and patrons and yet here you were, letting your hands explore over his suit.

Guess you knew where you were going after you died.

Crowley breaks off, “Darling, even if you went to Heaven, I'd steal you back. You belong by my side.”

Your eyes went wide as you processed that. Crowley was talking about it like this was a very long term thing.

The King of Hell sighs heavily and pulls you close into an embrace, “You know for a smart woman, you can be very oblivious can't you, pet?”

“I'm not that good with romance either,” you laugh. “The Men of Letters wasn't exactly an easy place to meet people.”

“Obviously,” Crowley chuckles and takes your face in his hand. “I haven't felt emotions like this in three hundred years, kitten, and I want to explore them with you. I meant what I said in your dream....fantastic setting by the way. Clearly that has been playing on your subconscious mind.”

“Uh...” is all you can manage as you blush.

“Tell you what,” Crowley says, with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. “Let's take a field trip, shall we?”

There's another rush of vertigo as you both reappear in Hell. There's a bunch of business suited demons who look incredibly surprised to see you there.

“Sire?” one demon asks. “There's a Winchester here?”

“She's not a Winchester you uneducated simpleton,” Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes.

“She associates with the Winchesters,” the demon presses. “Sire, there are some of us who are not happy with the amount of time you've been spending with them.”

“Go on,” Crowley says in the most dangerous voice you've ever heard.

“Your...sabbatical,” the demon continues, becoming a little braver. “The human blood, your holiday with Dean Winchester....and the rumours...”

“What rumours?” Crowley asks, stepping away from you and stalking over to the demon like a lion assessing his prey.

The demon swallows thickly, “Rumours about you and her, the British girl. That you're involved with a human.”

“Oh don't be so coy, darling,” Crowley chuckles darkly. “Say it properly.”

“That you and her are sexual partners,” the demon says, now practically squeaking.

“Sexual partners,” Crowley laughs, the sound low and raspy. “You do have a way with words...a way that makes everything seem so clinical. How about we say I have taken her carnally, explored every inch of her body and tasted every delight she has to offer me? Hmm? That seems much more appropriate.”

“So it's true?” the demon almost whispers.

“Very true,” Crowley nods and grabs the demon's face, turning it towards you. “And tell me you wouldn't want to know her intimately yourself?”

He clicks his fingers and your whole appearance changes to a long green evening gown, your hair loose and in waves and a necklace sparking around your neck.

You hear the intake of breath from the demon and the milling ones behind him. You're guessing whatever you looked like, it was very good. Not like there was a mirror around.

“I...uh...” the demon stammers. “She is beautiful.”

“So....Fabian, was it?” Crowley asks and the demon nods. “Tell me, do you blame me for taking her?”

“No, sire,” Fabian shakes his head fanatically.

“And do you lust after her?” Crowley asks, circling Fabian.

This was definitely like watching a nature documentary at work. Clearly this demon, Fabian, was way in over his head and Crowley was just toying with him.

“Yes sire,” Fabian nods, raking his eyes down your body.

“Correct answer,” Crowley laughs. “She is beautiful indeed, fiercely passionate and a lot more sinful than you'd expect. So...what does it matter if she's here? Hmm? What does it matter if I continue to associate with her?”

“She's killed many of us,” another demon pipes up.

“So have I,” Crowley shrugs.

Fabian's continuing to look at you like you're a cake on an afternoon tea platter. It's making you uncomfortable and you shift nervously. Crowley looks back to you and then to Fabian.

“You really have no tact, do you?” he asks the demon.

“How is she, sire?” Fabian asks, becoming emboldened. “To mate with.”

“Put it this way,” Crowley says, his voice dropping again to that dangerous tone. “I've been forever ruined for other women.”

Fabian licks his lips and you recoil slightly in disgust.

“Also, a King never shares,” Crowley says and snaps his fingers.

Fabian evaporates into dust.

“Anyone else want to openly drool over her?” Crowley rasps, his fingers raised in a click position.

There's a chorus of 'No sire, no your majesty'. All the remaining demons seem suddenly nervous.

“I thought as much,” Crowley says, arching an eyebrow. “Leave, now.”

There's a fevered scramble as they all pile out of the door, fumbling over each other to get out. It's almost comical in a way.

Finally you're alone.

“Seems there's unrest in Hell,” you smirk.

“Nothing I can't handle, darling,” Crowley dismisses it. “They need to be reminded of their station.”

“And the way to do that is by announcing you're sleeping with me?” you question.

“That was just...showing off,” Crowley chuckles. “You can't blame me, kitten. We have to hide what we have from The Winchesters but I refuse to hide it in my own Kingdom.”

“They could tell Sam and Dean, you know?” you point out. “Seems like there's enough dissent in the ranks that someone would try to do that.”

“Let them,” Crowley glowers towards the door. “They know what will happen.”

He waves his hand and several large locks click into place on the double doors. He moves over to you, drawing you close by your waist and tips your head up by your chin.

“I would tell the whole bloody world if you'd let me, darling....that is if you'll give me a proper answer. What do you say, Tabitha? Will you be my secret Queen?”

  


 


	18. One Size Cures All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will you answer Crowley's question and just what will you and Sam do with Dean now you've caught him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first up! I'M SO SORRY this has taken ages to get out.  
> I've had my laptop screen break and my desktop starting Blue Screen of Deathing and I lost about 3,000 words of this chapter. I'd like to say I reacted with dignity but I threw the most unladylike rage quit going and it's taken me a while to rewrite again.  
> ANYWAY!  
> Warnings: Non con triggers, gratuitous smut  
> Happy reading guys! I'm so thrilled to have the kudos and comments you've given!  
> If you want to send any private messages etc, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com  
> -TLP xx  
> (Standard 'I suck at proofreading' disclaimer)

 

“I...” you stammer, a little taken aback at what he's just asked you.

“I seem to have rendered you speechless, pet,” Crowley says, studying your expression with a slight smirk. “It's beginning to become a habit of mine.”

You're sure you look like a prize idiot stood there, gasping for the words that had flown from your brain. Queen?!

“Naturally it would be unofficial,” Crowley says, catching that thought. “Until such time as my minions come to heel again, then I'll do whatever the hell I bloody want to.”

He walks around you, slowly trailing his hand across your shoulder and picking up a lock of hair that he lets slip through his fingers.

“I could give you a crown,” he purrs. “It would suit your debonair elegance...and I would so enjoy seeing you in one...and nothing else.”

This wasn't really helping you get your thoughts back in order, in fact, it was making it worse. A shiver of lust ran down your body briefly but you brushed it off. You needed to focus, focus on what Crowley had actually asked you.

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back into him whilst his other hand continues to take strands of hair and play with them gently.

“Come on, kitten,” he rasps against you, his lips tickling your neck as he spoke. “I need your answer.”

You turn your head, sliding your hand up his whiskered cheek and lightly caressing it before you pull his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You may not be able to articulate right now but you could damn well show him how you felt.

Crowley's hands are almost crushing you to him as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue snaking in to mingle with your own. You wanted him to so badly rip the dress off of you, to take you right there.

Crowley breaks away, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, biting at the soft skin, “Say it, pet.”

“Crowley,” you moan, losing yourself completely in his touch. “I...I...”

“Say it,” he growls, “Say it and I'll give you what you want, kitten.”

“I-” you're about to begin when your phone starts ringing.

You feel the wave of pure unbridled anger from the King of Hell behind you.

“WILL THOSE TWO MORONS EVER STOP INTERRUPTING?!” he bellows, the sound echoing throughout the chamber.

From outside you hear small squeaks and assume some demons had remained near the doors. They probably thought Crowley was about to execute one of their number because there's the distinct noise of people scattering down corridors.

You look down at yourself, not even sure where the noise is coming from as Crowley had zapped your clothes into something different. Crowley just heaves a tremendous sigh and produces your mobile from his suit jacket.

“This is becoming personal now,” Crowley glowers at the flashing screen. “I swear Tabitha, I will smash this thing into a thousand pieces.”

“Sorry,” you say weakly, taking the phone and answering it. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” the voice of Sam asks, worriedly. “It's been an hour.”

“You said I had three,” you answer, puzzled.

“That wasn't a time goal to hit,” Sam sighs. “What's happening?”

“It's taking longer than I thought to find a good place for the Blade and Crowley's being difficult,” you lie which earns a raised eyebrow from your demon.

“Are you ok?” Sam asks, concerned.

“Yeah fine, pissed off but fine,” you say, which is partially true. You're pissed off but it's not aimed at Crowley.

“Good,” Sam breathes in relief. “I'm about to start the demon cure for Dean.”

“The blood ritual?” you say in surprise.

“I'm getting my brother back, Tabitha, once and for all. Can you please come back soon? I don't think I can do this alone,” Sam requests and you can hear the stress cracking through his voice.

“Of course,” you say. “I'll be as quick as I can.”

“Thank you,” Sam says.

You hang up, looking back at the irate face of Crowley.

“I'm sorry, we were on borrowed time anyway,” you try to explain.

“Not the point,” he says harshly. “Were I a lesser man, darling, I wouldn't let you go back at all but I know I must. I understand you may need...time to give me a straight answer, no matter how impatient I am.”

“Thank you,” you nod and he clicks his fingers, putting you back in the clothes you'd arrived in.

In his irritation, he quickly grabs your hand, vanishing you back into your room in the bunker. You don't have time to prepare for the rush of vertigo and you fall clumsily into him. Strong arms grip you, keeping you upright.

“You know, kitten, for all your elegance, you can be rather ungraceful,” he chuckles, steadying you.

“Well give me a warning next time,” you say, smirking.

“But I do so love having you against me,” he winks and releases you, making to disappear again.

“Wait,” you call and he turns round in mild surprise. “Is that it? I don't get a goodbye kiss or anything?”

Crowley bursts out into genuine laughter, “Oh Tabitha, you are extraordinary sometimes...”

He moves back to you, sweeping you into his arms and giving you an uncharacteristically sweet peck on the lips, “And that's all you're getting until I have my answer. I don't just put out for any one, you know.”

You can't help but smile as he softly strokes your cheek before he steps back, readjusting his suit jacket.

“Text me when you're ready. Ta ta, my love.”

With that he's gone.

  
  


**  
  
  
  


You find Sam down in the basement, sorting blood packs on a gurney.

“-did it ever occur to you that I don't wanna be fixed?” Dean's voice floats over and you see him chained down to a chair in the middle of the Devil's Trap.

“Yeah you said,” Sam replies monotonously before spotting you and giving you a slight smile. “Hey, Tabitha.”

“How are we doing?” you ask.

“Just getting ready for the first injection,” he says, prepping a needle.

“Oh look,” Dean says, his voice dripping with mirth. “Guess who decided to rejoin the family? Whatsamatta sweetheart? Your demon boyfriend not interesting enough?”

“Shut up,” you sigh, blocking him out.

“I get it,” Dean laughs. “Crowley's so goddamn needy, isn't he? Bet that's a real turn off for you. I know you like 'em strong.”

“Dean, enough,” Sam says in a low voice.

“Did I ever tell you Sam that she kissed me?” Dean grins. “In fact, she kissed me twice. Second time was...ughh...it was pornworthy, put it that way.”

Sam looks mortified and turns to you, trying to find where the truth lay.

“You kissed _me_ , Dean,” you point out. “I didn't instigate anything and I also pushed you away.”

“Wait, what?!” Sam cries. “It's true?!”

“Sure is, little brother,” Dean chuckles. “What do you say, princess? Wanna go for round three? Hey, maybe I can give you something more this time...if you get my drift.”

“Dean, stop!” Sam says in alarm. “This isn't you!”

“I'm more me than I've ever been, Sam,” Dean hisses.

“No you're not!” Sam yells back. “The Dean I knew, yeah he had a stupid high school crush on Tabitha but he would _never_ have forced himself on her.”

“She was asking for it,” Dean winks, raking his eyes over you and licking his lips obscenely. “Weren't you, sweetheart? See, she saw the demon in me and got all excited.”

You've had enough of this. You're starting to wonder if maybe you should've stayed in Hell after all because this is all just too much. You're horrified that Dean told Sam what had happened between you.

Without another word you grab for the syringe, stalking over and wrenching Dean's head to the side, jamming the needle into his neck and depressing the plunger, “Actually I preferred human Dean.”

“Aww come on, princess,” he winces as you pull the needle back out roughly. “You know I hate shots.”

“Tough,” you snarl.

“Exactly,” Sam nods. “And we hate demons. Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go. You could make it a lot easier on yourself.”

“Bite me,” Dean spits, turning his eyes coal black.

“Suit yourself,” Sam shrugs.

  
  


  
  


After the fourth injection, you've nearly had enough. It's been a torturous ordeal with Dean spitting the most vile comments he can at Sam and saying unimaginably depraved things to you. You usually take pride in being unflappable but some of the words he's used....it sent a shiver of disgust through you.

There was no trace of the Dean who'd been holding himself back from the edge any more. It was like he'd fully surrendered to his demonic side, no trace of humanity left.

Sam looks tired, tired and defeated. You're both not even sure this is working. Sure Dean's eyes keep flitting from black to green when you inject him but he doesn't seem to be breaking down the same way Crowley did. Frankly, it's exhausting.

“I need to get the other blood packs,” Sam sighs, his eyes hollow.

“Make sure you get yourself a coffee too,” you press, gently squeezing his shoulder. “You look exhausted.”

“Really?” Dean laughs. “Are you tryna screw him now too? Why not go for the whole Winchester line, huh? I'm sure you can pull Dad out of Heaven too while you're at it.”

“ENOUGH,” Sam shouts, losing his temper completely. “Don't you dare say things like that to her!”

“Leave it,” you urge. “He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Go on, go get yourself a drink and calm down for a bit.”

“Yeah Sammy, roll over and play fetch too,” Dean smirks.

Sam tenses up incredibly but starts walking up the stairs...although stomping might be the better term.

“Just you and me, sweetcheeks,” Dean purrs. “You know, I've been thinking...what does Crowley have that I don't?”

“Oh would you just shut up about Crowley!” you snap.

“And I realised,” Dean continues, ignoring you completely. “He's the King of Hell. Maybe I shoulda just ganked him whilst we were playing besties and taken over myself. Imagine that, huh? Dean Winchester, King of Hell....I think it has a nice ring to it.

You're desperately trying to keep your face impassive. If this 'cure' didn't work and Dean was stuck as a demon forever, would he actually try to kill Crowley? Crowley could easily defeat him....right?

“Whatsamatta princess?” Dean laughs. “Got you all worked up on the thought?”

You turn away, waiting for Sam to come back down the stairs. You're not going to give Dean the satisfaction of knowing he's repulsing you.

“You gone shy now, Tabs?” he calls before chuckling. “Aww she's gone shy, awesome.”

You resolutely look at the door at the top of the steps, hoping there'll be a reprieve soon.

“Shy girls are the best lays,” Dean's voice says from right next to your ear.

You half scream as his hand clamps around your mouth, stifling the sound and he shoves you forcefully against the end of the book case that hides the dungeon. He pins you to it with his body, leering openly into your face.

How was this happening?! He managed to get out of the demon handcuffs _and_ the Devil's Trap?!

“See,” Dean says against your neck as you try to twist out of his grip. “The more human you make me, the less those things work. Maybe you shoulda had a better plan, princess.”

You attempt to land an uppercut onto his jaw but it doesn't even seem to phase him.

“Trying to hurt me, huh? Kinky,” he grins. “I like it.”

You can't get away. You're strong but you're not demon strong and it's like pushing against a cliffside.

Oh god, was this really happening right now?!

“Sam!” you try to scream but Dean's hand presses more harshly over your mouth, burying the noise completely.

“Like I say, just you and me,” he smirks, his eyes flashing black. “I promise you, sweetheart, you're gonna love this.”

He gathers your flailing fists in one hand, pinning them over your head before he lets go of your mouth and his other hand dives under your shirt.

“Sa-!” you make to scream again but Dean forcefully kisses you.

No no no!

You bite his lip hard, drawing blood and he pulls back momentarily to chuckle, “Do that again, princess. That was hot.”

His mouth is back on yours, the taste of copper smearing across your tongue and you're trying so hard not to gag.

You can't call for Sam, Crowley was only reachable via phone so that only left you with one last desperate option.

_Cas!_ You mentally cry out. _Please help me! Please!_

The angel who'd been M.I.A for some time. It was a longshot but what other choice did you have right now but to pray?

Dean's hand was roughly pulling your bra aside as he pressed his body against yours, grinding slightly. You could feel the tears starting to roll down your face.

_Cas!_

Now Dean's hand was about to snake into your jeans, his other hand fisting in your hair to keep you still. You could feel the rough, uncaring fingers digging into the waistband of your underwear, looking for an entrance.

_CAS! PLEASE!_

  
  


_**_

__  
  
“You're guilty of...something...which I won't tolerate,” Crowley says, dismissively to the prostrate demon begging before him.

Honestly, his mind wasn't really in it right now.

He kept surreptitiously checking his phone, hoping you'd called or texted. He should be patient, he was good at being patient, he'd devised whole torture realms on punishing the _impatient_ , so why was he acting like a teenage girl cliché from a high school movie?

“Whatever it was,” he continues, glancing at the screen quickly to confirm he had no new messages. “You're condemned to lower forms of vessels.”

“Please! Your majesty!” comes the grovelling reply.

_I wonder if she'd ever call me 'Your majesty'._

“Sire?” his administrative manager calls softly, breaking him out of his trance.

Crowley sighs, “Begging will get you nowhere. Now get out of my sight. My judgement is final.”

Two muscular demons start dragging the pitiful wretch away by the ankles and slowly the cries of anguish fade out.

_Why won't she just hurry up and give me a bloody answer!_

He checked his phone again, even though he'd done it only seconds before. Well, it _had_ only been three hours since you'd parted, he rationalised. Almost curing him had taken a fair while as well.

“Sire, we have a lot of supplicants waiting,” the admin manager pressed.

“They can wait, it's Hell, all anyone ever does is wait,” Crowley grumbles.

_Including me._

“Forgive my boldness, your Majesty,” the demon coughed.

_Nothing good ever comes of a sentence like that._

“The Men of Letter's woman-”

“Tabitha,” Crowley interrupts. “No...actually Miss Hetherington to you.”

“Very good, sire, Miss Hetherington,” the demon fawns. “I sense she's causing you a great deal of distraction. Might I suggest-”

“Be very careful what you say next,” Crowley growls, leaning his chin on his hand and glowering dangerously.

The demon swallows thickly, “Might I suggest you don't let her return to the Winchesters if it bothers you so much.”

“Tell me...Charles, would you truly be fine with a human next to my throne?” Crowley asks, trying to level as much nonchalance into the sentence as he can.

“A happy king is a happy Hell...well...a well functioning Hell,” Charles replies.

“Oh don't give me the standard bloody answer, darling, I'm not that vain,” Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Apologies,” Charles babbles. “If I may, I have heard talk from the Abaddon loyalist prisoners that she believed Miss Hetherington had great demonic potential. If a Knight of Hell would heap such praise on a human then I would have no issue with her being by your side, Sire.”

_My Tabitha...great demonic potential..._

Crowley felt incredibly incensed by that statement but he didn't show it.

“Marvellous,” he purrs. “I'll consider it the next time she's down.”

“Very good, your majesty,” Charles nods.

_How dare this little oik suggest I'd twist her soul someday! How dare he suggest I'd erase all her caring, her ferocious heroism and her sweetness! That is mine!_

Crowley would make damn sure you'd be his _human_ Queen, lording it over the miscreants of Hell and he would enjoy every moment of their displeasure.

_That is...if you ever give me an answer._

  
  


**

 

  
  
_CAS! SAVE ME, PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!_

Dean is wrenched away from you and you splutter for breath.

“Tabitha, run!” Castiel urges you, holding the struggling Dean in his vice like grip.

You waste no time stumbling towards the staircase, screaming for Sam as you went. The younger Winchester flung open the door as you reached the top, taking in your tear and blood stained face.

“Tabitha?!” he says in alarm.

“Sam! I can't hold him much longer!” Castiel calls and Sam looks past you to see the fight that's breaking out.

He barges past, syringe in hand and practically leaps down the last ten steps, jabbing the needle directly into a vein. Dean lets out an inhuman roar before slumping into Castiel's arms. The angel and the hunter quickly bind him to the chair with as many restraints as they can manage before they finally step away.

You just sink onto the stairs, trying your best not to cry. You're trying to process everything that just happened.

“Tabitha,” Sam says, highly concerned at your state. “What happened?”

You don't answer, you don't _want_ to answer. Answering would make what happened seem more real.

“Cas?” Sam tries when he doesn't get a response.

The angel looks uncomfortable, “Dean was trying to initiate sex with Tabitha...forcefully.”

“Oh my god,” Sam breathes, his eyes wide. “God, Dean, what did you do?!”

He strides up to you, torn between wanting to hug you and wanting to give you space. The look he gives you...god you must look so pathetic right now.

“What's up fellas?” Dean says amiably and you all turn to see him sitting there, quite puzzled as to why he's chained up.

Cas unceremoniously dumps some holy water over him and Dean splutters for a while but no smoke comes off of him. Was he...was he cured?

“Welcome back, Dean,” Castiel proclaims.

“Hey, why the hell is there blood in my mouth?” Dean says, rolling his tongue over the bite mark on his lip.

Nobody says anything so Dean looks up, searching each of your faces until he sees yours. The cogs turn as he realises why you have blood on your face too and why you look so distressed.

“Tell me I didn't,” he says softly. “Please.”

There's silence. You don't want to even look at him right now.

“Sammy?” Dean begs. “Tell me I didn't.”

Sam just gives Dean an intensely sad look but says nothing.

“Tell me, please!” Dean's almost shouting, emotional pain etched on his face. “Oh god, I did...Tabs...I'm so sorry...”

You just silently get to your feet, walking out of the basement without so much as a singular glance back.

  
  


**

 

  
  
  
“Please talk to me,” Dean says through your door for the sixth time.

You'd shut yourself away, locking yourself in the bedroom. The first thing you did was shower. The whole experience had made you feel unclean. Now you were just sitting on your bed, still wrapped in the towel although you'd long since dried off.

“I want to say I'm sorry,” he says, his voice cut with sadness.

You silently dress yourself, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Dean looks like a wreck. His face is anguished and covered in tears. He tries to reach a hand out to you but you recoil subconsciously and he looks even more tormented now.

“I never would have done that to you, please tell me you know that?” he pleads. “A drunken kiss, sure but not _that_.”

“I know,” you murmur quietly. “Doesn't erase what happened though, Dean.”

“I would never hurt you, never,” he presses, trying to make you understand. “I know...I know you're probably not gonna trust me for the longest time or even come near me again but I would never hurt you. Remember that. Please. Remember me as I was.”

He turns to go, shame creeping into his face.

Your head is full of mixed emotions but the main one that crops up is pity.

_It wasn't Dean. It was the Mark. I've told myself this before. That man walking away is your friend, not the monster in the basement. Don't punish him for something he had no clue he was doing._

You walk up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist to hug him from behind and hide your face against his shoulder. He stiffens, not really knowing what to do, afraid he'll upset you.

“I don't hate you, Dean,” you say. “Just...just give me some time to process.”

“Can do, princess,” he smiles in a hopeful sort of way, visibly relaxing. “Take all the time you need. Hell, I'm gonna need some time to process what happened too.”

“Ok,” you murmur. “I'm going to go back to my room now and I'd like to be alone for the evening. Go reconnect with Sam.”

“Gotcha loud and clear,” Dean nods, breaking out of your embrace and turning to give you a slight smirk in the way that only human Dean really could. “Good night, Tabs.”

“Good night, Dean. I'm glad you're back,” you call after him.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he laughs. “I've got a whole stack of burgers just waiting for me.”

_Typical._

You walk back into the room and lock the door before retrieving your phone.

 

**Tabitha: I'm ready to talk but I want to be away from the bunker to do it.**

 

The reply is almost instantaneous, as if he was just waiting for your message.

 

**Not Lover: I'll pick you up in a minute, darling.**

 

There's a slight change in the air and you know Crowley's behind you.

“Alright, so maybe I lied,” he shrugs. “Not quite a minute but I was impatient. Ready to go?”

“Definitely,” you nod.

The both of you vanish out of the bunker.

  
  


 

**  
  
  
  


 

You reappear in a room that you've never seen before.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“My private chambers,” Crowley purrs. “Thought the penthouse was getting a bit old hat.”

You look around at the sumptuously decorated room with the giant four poster bed in the centre and its luscious red velvet drapes. In fact, red was pretty much the theme of the room from the high backed armchair next to a roaring fire (fires in Hell?) to the sprawling soft rug near a large desk.

You can feel Crowley staring at you so you look at him questioningly.

“Well?” Crowley asks, taking your hand and caressing it lightly.

You don't think he's expecting it at all when you practically pounce on him, knocking him into the stone wall and hungrily kissing him. He flounders for a second before recovering his charm, his hands grasping your face to pull you even closer into him.

You feel safe like this, like nothing could harm you. This was familiar, you were in control, this was something you loved doing...

_With someone I love._

Crowley jerks back from you, eyes wide.

_Oh no, he heard that._

His demeanour becomes almost possessive as he forces you to be still and to look at him.

“Say it,” he growls.

“Say what?” you reply in little more than a whisper.

“You know what. Don't be coy. Say it,” he demands, a fire igniting in his eyes.

“But you heard it.”

“Say it out loud, right now,” he snarls, gripping your face more firmly.

“Crowley...I...” you stutter. “I love you. There's my answer.”

“Finally,” he smirks before whirling you round to press you against the wall.

His mouth is on you, more insistent than it's ever been. His hands are everywhere, one moment in a rough touch and the next the softest caress.

“You tried my patience so much, darling,” he mumbles in between heavy kisses at your lips. “I just wanted you to admit what you felt.”

His head drops to your neck, the whiskers of his beard scratching the skin gently, “And now you're mine, truly mine. Your body....and your heart.”

“And what about you?” you ask, trailing your hands down the buttons of his shirt.

“I already told you, kitten,” he chuckles, taking one of your hands and placing it over his chest. You note he's still wearing the pendant you gave him, even after everything. “You had my heart a long time ago, I just didn't deign it the right time to tell you until recently.”

“Crowley,” you breathe. “I need you, take me to bed.”

“With pleasure,” he rumbles, picking you up by the legs which you wrap around his waist.

He walks to the bed, dropping you onto the soft silk sheets before he strips off his suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt. Soon he's crawling up your body like a predatory animal.

He rips your t-shirt off, making you gasp in surprise.

_God that was sexy_

“What did I say about using his name in the bedroom?” Crowley chides, making short work of your bra as well. “You'll give me a complex.”

“Just shut up,” you hiss, pulling his head to yours and kissing him viciously.

“Mmmm, kitten wants to get her claws out, hmm?” he chuckles. “I think I know exactly what you want.”

Your sweatpants are shredded into tiny strips of fabric that flutter around the bed and Crowley's palm is grinding against the material of your underwear causing you to arch up heavily.

“Fuck!” you cry out.

“I'm getting to it,” Crowley laughs in that deep raspy way. “Be patient.”

He simply hooks his hand through the thin cotton and flicks it upwards, the fabric parting into useless ribbons. His fingers harshly run down the newly exposed skin of your sex and you're so thankful he's not teasing you because you think you might actually become violent if he tried to.

You already know you're soaked by this point and when he eases two crooked fingers into you without any resistance, it only confirms it. You moan openly into his mouth as he kisses you whilst his fingers find all the spots that have your legs shaking with the throes of pleasure.

“I do so love the way you purr for me,” he husks. “I've missed it immensely.”

He's working you so close to an orgasm but you want more, you need him in you.

“My my my, we're _very_ impatient today,” he smirks, withdrawing his fingers before he licks them clean in an almost obscene way. “So eager to be claimed again, are we?”

“You asked for a queen,” you say, mouthing your own kisses on him and nipping right on the point of his throat. “So claim your queen.”

The possessive rumble that rips through his chest is a sound you'll never forget.

He clicks his fingers, ridding himself of his remaining clothing before he's on you again and he's not being gentle in the slightest. The way he paws at you, mauls at your flesh, devours you with his mouth, you'd do just about anything for him not to stop.

You feel the hard press of his cock against your entrance and with no elegance, he ruts into you. You practically cry out as he fills you utterly. You dig your nails into his shoulders, your head lolling backwards.

“You are exquisite,” he growls, slamming into you over and over again. “I could watch your face like this for hours, pet.”

He hikes your thighs up around him so he can drive deeper into you. The thrusts are becoming feral, to the point of bruising but fuck did it feel good. The moans are echoing louder and louder around the chamber. If any demons were outside right now, they sure were hearing a good show.

“You little deviant,” Crowley chuckles. “Just so you know, there _are_ demons out in the corridor and they're enjoying this very much. Some are even touching themselves, all to the sound of their king claiming his queen. Does that excite you, darling?”

“Yes,” you pant, knowing it was fruitless to lie when he could read your thoughts.

“I love how secretly perverted you are,” Crowley smirks, picking up his tempo even more which makes you grasp the sheets wildly, twisting the silk between your fingers. “How about this then, you don't get to come until you address me properly, is that fun?”

You're too caught up in the pleasure to care. All you know is the harsh thrusts of his cock, the rough grasp of his hand at your breast and the tickle of his beard at your throat.

“Uh huh,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises, snaking his hand down in between you to roughly palm at your clit.

You loudly gasp, letting a string of curse words out to which Crowley just chuckles darkly. How is he so good at keeping up the rhythm and...

“Hmm, we're nearly there aren't we?” he purrs into your ear. “You know what to say, kitten.”

There's the telltale twitch in your core signalling you're not far off release and all of a sudden Crowley stops.

“No,” you whine at the loss of sensation. “Not fair.”

“You agreed, pet,” he smirks. “Come on, address me as I am. Beg me properly.”

You're beyond embarrassment by this point. You already had demons outside getting off to you so why not go fully down the rabbit hole?

“Please...your majesty,” you plead.

“Oh, kitten,” Crowley rumbles, driving into you particularly hard. “I _adore_ the way you say that.”

Your hands curl into his hair as he starts to run circles around your clit again, building you back up as he fucks you roughly.

“Sire, my liege, my king!” the words keep tumbling out of your mouth as the wave hits and you're screaming in abject pleasure, uncaring of who might hear.

There's a deep animalistic growl as Crowley slams himself as deep as he can go, spilling himself into you as you jerk and writhe beneath him.

There's a long pause where you both just stay there, content just to be.

Crowley gently kisses your lips, “My queen. My love.”

You'd never felt safer.

  
  


 

**

  
  


 

He'd heard it in your thoughts, he'd _seen_ the images. You were so distressed by it that you couldn't help but project it in glorious technicolour.

He knew you needed to focus on something else, knew you needed him. He happily obliged.

When you acknowledged him as your king, his heart swelled with love but it also awoke a fiercer stirring of protection. You were his, officially...maybe not legally but your soul brimmed with adoration for him.

As you lay on the bed, easing into the pillows to rest, he saw the image again.

Dean Winchester, his hands all over you, his mouth on you, the fear you felt, the revulsion.

He spent most of the time that you were asleep thinking about whether his promise to you still stood.

“ _Will you promise me that you'll look out for Dean?”_

Reflexively he curled his arms around you, holding you tightly as you slept on.

_When the time is right, Dean. I will kill you for what you've done to her._

 

 

 

__

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guilty of something gif is my favourite Crowley line <3


	19. Meet the Parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of curing Dean, everything is chaos and one woman in particular is there to stoke the fire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Bit of a shorter chapter today but I am cranking out a lot of fics at the moment.
> 
> No warnings today for this chapter :) some fluff ahead.
> 
> Any private comments/messages etc my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and now I also have Tumblr: theliveshipparagon (although be gentle, I'm a Tumblr virgin and I have no clue what I'm doing haha)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Standard I suck at proof reading disclaimer)

It took you a few moments to realise where you were.

You awoke to an unfamiliar sensation of silk sheets under you and an arm wrapped around your body. For a brief time, you were afraid and disorientated, that is until a familiar voice began humming behind you, the tune vaguely Gaelic.

“Crowley?” you ask.

“Morning darling,” he says amiably. “I must have tired you out so, because you slept for an age.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “It was a bit of a rough day yesterday.”

“Quite,” the King of Hell replies tersely.

You may be imagining it but Crowley seems to tense up a little and hold you even tighter.

“You're not imagining it, kitten,” Crowley says in your ear. “I told you, when you panic I can hear everything so I know _exactly_ what happened yesterday.”

“Don't kill him,” is all you whisper. “It wasn't really him.”

Crowley rolls you onto your back, fierce anger in his eyes, “When will you stop making excuses for Dean Winchester's behaviour, Tabitha? Will it take him actually raping you for that to happen?”

You flinch horrendously from his touch, curling up into a ball. You hide your face in your hair, desperate for him not to see you like this.

“Tabitha,” comes Crowley's voice, a lot softer, a lot more caring. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be....heavy handed like that. I'm just aggrieved at what happened and I'm furious the winged boy wonder had to be the one to save you.”

“Not like I could pray to you,” you mumble.

“You could, you know,” Crowley replies. “We still hear the call, even if we're not divine. If you'd of called for me, I would've come.”

“No point,” you mutter. “Demon Dean was planning on killing you. That would've just been an opportunity for him.”

Crowley bursts out into throaty laughter, “I would love to have seen the little upstart try. Darling, I'm Crowley. Dean Winchester, demon or not, is not going to kill me. Now will you look at me, please.”

You lift your head, staring at his face which seems a lot more gentle than a few seconds ago. He takes the back of your hand and kisses it gently.

“I swore I would never hurt you, Tabitha. Now I know I have broken that promise to you once but I don't intend to do it again. I wouldn't cause you pain by killing Dean,” Crowley declares.

“But you hate him,” you say, trying to see if Crowley was lying to you.

“I may do, kitten, but I love you and is that not all the assurance you need?” Crowley asks.

He had a point. If there was one thing that Crowley had proved it was that his feelings for you were genuine.

“Yes,” you nod.

“And what assurance do I have from you, pet?” Crowley says, studying your face. “I'll have to hand you back to Beavis and Butthead soon.”

“What do you need?” you ask, unsure of where this is heading.

“Perhaps a mark?” Crowley suggests, trailing his fingers across your bare skin. “Something hidden, something that only I would see but that marks you as my own. It would make me feel marginally better about letting you leave again.”

“Why would you be insecure about that?” you question.

“Darling, when a man holds something precious, he'll do just about anything to make sure it never slips through his fingers,” Crowley chuckles. “And you're precious to me.”

You didn't need to be a mind reader to tell that Crowley was terrified of you running off with someone else. Truth be told there was not a doubt in your mind that anyone would ever match up to him. That kind of raw magnetism between two people didn't just come along every day.

“Alright,” you nod.

Crowley seems surprised you'd so readily agreed but he rearranges his face into that familiar charming smirk, “I was thinking.....here.”

He presses on a spot near your hip bone. It'd be hidden under your underwear and would at least be symmetrical with the anti-possession tattoo on your other hip.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” you ask.

“Do you trust me, kitten?” he asks, stroking the area of skin lightly.

Did you? Crowley had broken your trust once but you got the feeling he really would never do so again.

“Yes,” you say.

There's a momentary flash of pain as a brand is seared into your flesh underneath his flat palm. He promptly kisses you deeply, trying to soothe the jangled nerves sparking up your body.

“Thought it was best to do it quickly,” Crowley says before removing his palm.

You see the red mark on your hip. It's a small crown.

“Really?” you ask in amusement.

“I said I'd give you one, did I not pet?” Crowley chuckles. “And now I know, Tabitha. I truly know that you're mine if you're willing to undergo that for me. I've not been this happy since....well ever really.”

“Not even in your human life?”

“Especially not,” Crowley grimaces. “Tragic that I should have to wait over 350 years for a woman to snare my interest.”

“Well, good things come to those who wait,” you wink, regaining a little bit of your confidence back.

“Indeed they do,” Crowley smiles. “Well then kitten, get dressed. I'll drop you back in the Winchester's playground. No doubt you have some more angsty conversations ahead and I'm not sticking around for those.”

You sit up, wincing slightly at the pain in your hip before you gingerly redress.

“It will heal quickly,” Crowley informs you. “I've made certain of that.”

“Nothing some painkillers won't fix,” you shrug before pulling your top over your head. “Ready?”

“Never,” Crowley rolls his eyes but sits up and gets off the bed, snapping his fingers to dress himself. “But let's go all the same.”

With a whirl you're back in your room.

“Promise me you won't leave me waiting too long, kitten,” Crowley says, snaking his arm around your waist and tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “It's maddening when you're away from me.”

“I promise,” you smile and lean forward to kiss him gently.

It takes the both of you a while before you break apart but eventually you do. Crowley looks like he wants to say something to you but thinks better of it before he turns around and vanishes.

“I have never seen Crowley so enraptured,” comes the voice of Castiel from the corner of your room.

You let out the most horrendous scream as your heart starts going ten to the dozen and you fall backwards into the desk.

Not a moment later you hear running footsteps and the sound of Sam and Dean pounding on the door.

“Tabs?!” Dean yells. “You ok?!”

“Tabitha?!” Sam cries.

Castiel nonchalantly walks over and unlocks the door and the two brothers practically fall into the room.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean asks angrily.

“It is my fault,” the angel says. “I startled her.”

“Goddamnit, Cas!” Dean hisses. “You can't go around just appearing in people's rooms!”

“I do that all the time,” Castiel says confused. “I merely wished to see if she was alright after the events of yesterday.”

“I'm fine,” you pant, trying to get your breath back. “Jesus, Cas...you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“But you are fine,” Castiel says, coming over and assessing you. “Apart from some pain in your hip. I can help with that.”

“I'm good,” you say, shying away from his touch. “I just don't need to be touched right now.”

“Cas, leave her,” Sam says softly. “She's been through a lot.”

“Of course,” Castiel nods. “I understand. I will take my leave.”

There's a flap of wings and the room goes still.

“You ok, princess?” Dean asks, highly concerned but he keeps a respectable distance.

“That's not what I wanted to wake up to,” you say, your hand over your heart, trying to calm down.

“We made pancakes,” Sam smiles. “Do you want some?”

“Does the Queen have corgis?” you laugh.

Both men look at you blankly.

“Yes, yes she does,” you sigh. “And yes I want pancakes.”

  
  


**  
  
  
  


It's not as awkward as you expected.

The boys do a reasonable job of acting normal. Sam's talking about lore as per usual and Dean's giving it his best shot at witty repartee. It could almost be a scene from several weeks earlier.

“Why the hell are you putting sugar and lemon on them?” Dean asks, watching you ladle the ingredients on your pancakes. “I usually have to fight you for the Nutella.”

“It's Shrove Tuesday,” you shrug. “It's traditional.”

“You actually believe all that bible crap?”

“No, Dean,” you laugh. “We just do it in England despite rarely going to church.”

“It's cultural,” Sam says, trying to help you out.

“Culture my ass,” Dean scoffs. “That looks disgusting, sweetheart.”

You make a big display of wolfing most of the stack, winking at Dean who looks horrified. Sam just chuckles to himself.

“Hey, gimme a try,” Dean says. “If you like it that much it must be good.”

“I thought it was 'disgusting',” you mock.

“Yeah well, I wanna be able to prove myself right via a taste test so move along sweetcheeks,” Dean says, hustling in on your plate and carving himself a chunk of pancakes.

“Clearly I never instilled good manners in you,” you sigh.

“Don't even try, it's hopeless,” Sam laughs. “He could be meeting the President and he'd still eat like a jackass.”

“Holy crap!” Dean mumbles through a full mouth. “Why is this so good?!”

“Get your own, Dean-o,” you hiss, pulling the plate away.

“Aww come on!” Dean says, doing his best pout. “You're never gonna put all that away.”

“Watch me,” you scowl, digging in furiously.

“It's good to see you both like this again,” Sam smiles. “I've missed you guys.”

“I've been right here,” you say confused.

“I mean the way we all were,” Sam clarifies.

“Don't go getting sentimental, Sammy,” Dean laughs. “It's a long road ahead.”

“I know,” Sam nods. “Speaking of which, we have that thing...”

“Yeah yeah, right, the thing,” Dean nods. “Sam and I are going out to, you know, take a break and reconnect and all that other chick flick stuff.”

“That's a good idea,” you grin. “I think you'll both benefit from that.”

“You gonna be ok being on your own?” Sam asks. “I mean Cas will be nearby in case you need anything.”

“I'll be fine,” you assure him. “Gives me a breather.”

Sam gets up to go get properly dressed but Dean stays next to you.

“How you doing, Tabs?” he asks quietly.

“Better,” you answer. “I've mostly been distracting myself until I'm ready to deal with it. You?”

“Just...a lot of nightmares,” Dean whispers. “Nightmares where I've hurt you, where I've hurt Sam.”

“It'll be ok,” you say soothingly. “We'll get through it. We're doing a pretty good job of it right now.”

Dean gives you a small smile, “I'm glad you think so. Honestly, I didn't know if I was going about this the right way.”

“I think pretending nothing happened and carrying on is a good way to move forward,” you nod.

“Keep calm and carry on, eh?” Dean chuckles.

“Oh you did not just say that to me,” you groan. “You need to stop getting your education on Britain from TV shows and the internet.”

“Teach me sometime then,” he laughs.

Sam returns and smiles broadly at seeing the two of you getting on so well.

“Come on, Dean,” he grins. “Let's leave Tabitha in peace for a while.”

“Catch you later, princess,” Dean nods, going to pull his jacket on.

“Bye guys,” you wave them off.

The second you hear the door close you text Crowley.

  
  


**Tabitha: Are you free?**

**Not Lover: Got a bit of a situation.**

**Tabitha: Anything I can help with?**

**Not Lover: No, I don't want you down here with her around.**

**Tabitha: Her?**

**Not Lover: My mother**

**Tabitha: Your mother?**

**Not Lover: Long story.**

**Tabitha: That's a shame. I have free time and an empty bunker.**

**Not Lover: Kitten, you're killing me here...**

**Tabitha: Fine, I'll be good.**

  
  


“You know the King of Hell is supposed to be the one who tempts people, not the other way around,” Crowley says indignantly from behind you.

“Hey, I said I was going to be good,” you shrug, turning round to face him. “You're the one who came up here.”

Crowley backs you into the wall, pinning your wrists either side of you before giving you a searing kiss, “I _never_ want you to be good, pet. You're so deliciously sinful.”

“Bring me back down for a while,” you ask. “I'll stay out of the way.”

“Why would you want to come to Hell when we could stay here?” Crowley asks, puzzled.

“Because Castiel's been watching,” you explain. “He saw you drop me off.”

Crowley lets out an audible groan, “Of course he would. I understand your reticence now...fine, you can come but you'll have to stay in my chambers. If my mother sees you...”

“She'll tell me off for corrupting her precious child?” you smirk in amusement.

“I was going to say she'd blast you into oblivion,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “She's a witch, darling and she was an abominable mother. She tried to trade me for pigs.”

“What?!” you say, flabbergasted.

“You see why she's not on my Christmas card list,” Crowley sighs. “Stay out of sight in my chambers and I'll pop in on you. She won't think to look there.”

“Guess I'm the secret now,” you laugh.

Crowley places your hands around his neck and you coil your fingers into his short hair, “Starcrossed lovers indeed. Earth and Hell's finest.”

He leans down, kissing you languidly, his fingers trailing down the sides of your waist. You don't even realise you're back in Hell until you break away for air.

“Fergus!” comes a heavily accented Scottish voice.

Fergus?!

The look on Crowley's face tells you everything you need to know. This was his mother. Guess she _did_ think to look everywhere after all.

“Aww Fergus, you've got a wee girlfriend!” his mother squeals with delight. “Let me see her then.”

“Mother, in the politest possible terms...get bent,” Crowley hisses, pushing you behind him and out of the way.

“That's no way to talk to the woman who raised you,” she admonishes. “Now let me see her. I need to make sure she's right for my darling wee boy.”

“I don't need your approval for that, mother,” Crowley spits. “I already know she's right for me.”

You can't quite see the woman but you're sure you can hear the soporific delight in her voice.

“I'm just chuffed to bits for you, Fergus, I really am,” she says.

“Stop calling me Fergus!” Crowley roars. “I'm the bloody King of Hell and you will address me as such!”

“Well no need to shout!” his mother says exasperatedly. “Come on little lass, I only want to meet you.”

You don't want to appear like Crowley's protecting you and you have no spine so you walk around him, coming to stand at his side.

The woman before you is nothing like you were expecting. She's extremely short with a shock of red wavy hair and she wears a shrewd expression like she's always calculating the situation around her. Instantly you get the impression she's very dangerous....maybe you should have stayed behind Crowley after all.

“Aren't you just adorable!” she exclaims. “I'm Rowena, what's your name poppet?”

“This is Tabitha,” Crowley says for you. “Are you quite done mother because I'm busy.”

“Fergus! Stop being rude!” Rowena chides. “Hello, Tabitha. Have you and my son been dating long?”

“A while,” you answer cagily.

“Oh! You're English!” she smiles and it's a sight you never want to see again. “Fergus never did stray too far from home. Ah well, at least you'll teach him some manners. I remember when-”

“MOTHER!” Crowley yells, losing his temper. “Leave us before I introduce you to the cells of Hell on a more permanent basis!”

“Fine....” Rowena rolls her eyes. “Was lovely meeting you Tabitha. You're definitely too good for this brute.”

With a flick of her red mane, she strides out, holding her head up high.

“That was your mother?” you say in shock.

“Difficult isn't she?” Crowley grimaces.

“Dangerous more like,” you agree.

“So you got that vibe?” Crowley asks. “Good, because you need to stay as far away from her as possible, pet. She wouldn't think twice about torturing you just to cause me pain.”

“You don't need to tell me,” you say, shivering slightly. “I don't want to go anywhere near that woman.”

“Sure you want to stay?” Crowley says, curling his arm around your waist, a knowing expression on his face.

“Yes,” you nod boldly. “I'd rather be here with you, facing her than be bored witless alone in the bunker.”

Crowley chuckles, “My love, you do say some adorable things sometimes.”

“It's been known,” you smile back.

He bends down and kisses your forehead, “Will you be alright here whilst I try and do damage control? There's a TV in the ceiling, it has Netflix.”

“Oh well then I'll be just fine,” you laugh. “Go on, go be a king...your majesty.”

There's a glimmer of red to his eyes and you hear the lustful purr in his chest, “Kitten, you really are a tease today...I'll be coming back for you and I expect you to say that to me again when I return.”

“Don't be too long,” you wink.

“You really will be the death of me,” he sighs, extracting himself from you and leaving the room.

It's strange how you find it more comforting to be here than the bunker recently. You supposed the bunker had too many bad memories lately.

You flopped down on the bed, staring up and as Crowley promised, there's a large flatscreen TV embedded above you. As you lose yourself in some show, you don't even notice the figure skulking to the side of you. It's only when they speak that you jerk upwards, ready for a fight.

“It's only little old me,” Rowena giggles, sitting on a chair next to the bed. “Now that we're alone, I can get to know you better and perhaps you can tell me why my son will only listen to you now.”

You don't want to give anything away. If you tell her the real reason why Crowley trusts your opinion implicitly, she'll use it against you.

Her hand rises up and you feel your throat constricting. Desperately you claw at your skin, trying to dislodge whatever was choking you.

“You're in my way, little lass,” Rowena says sweetly. “I don't need some starry eyed human filling his head with ideas of love. A boy needs his mother and I'll make sure he's never distracted by you again.”

  
  


 

 

  
  


 


	20. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out for you and Rowena is determined to see you dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Sorry, life is very hectic at the moment so I'm not able to do super long chapters currently.
> 
> Warnings: Gore, fluff
> 
> Any private comments/messages etc my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and now I also have Tumblr: theliveshipparagon (although be gentle, I'm a Tumblr virgin and I have no clue what I'm doing haha feel free to message me there)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Standard I suck at proof reading disclaimer)

You could feel the blood burbling up into your throat and pooling around your tongue. You couldn't keep it back any more. It spilled over your lips and started running down your chin. You tried to make a noise but Rowena just shushed you gently, like she was calming an infant.

“Shhh, wee lass. It'll be over soon. Then you can go to Heaven and leave him in peace,” she coos.

Would you even go to Heaven? You were pretty sure having sex with the King of Hell didn't exactly put you in God's good graces. You'd quite possibly damned yourself to end up down here anyway.

_Crowley!_

The word wouldn't come out of your mouth but you mentally screamed it all the same. If what Crowley said was true, you hoped he could hear.

_Crowley help me!_

“Nearly done,” Rowena smiles warmly. “Not long now, poppet.”

It felt like your insides were twisting, squeezing your organs almost into your chest. It was also becoming hard to breathe with the blood driving up your windpipe. Slowly your vision was tunnelling and you gave up hope. You knew you were nearly dead.

What a way to bow out, murdered by the King of Hell's mother because she was jealous! You'd always pictured you'd go out in more of a blaze of glory, fighting some apocalypse or other. This was just embarrassing...

_I'm sorry, Crowley, I love you..._

You bucked on the bed, drowning in your own bodily fluids as you desperately scrambled for air. This was it.

The double doors burst open although the sound is muted in your dying throes. You vaguely catch Rowena being flung into the wall and the sensation of hands turning you over so you can vomit blood onto the sheets. Instantly your airways clear and your auditory senses come rushing back.

“HOW BLOODY DARE YOU!” a familiar gruff voice bellows so loud that it echoes around the chamber. “You will rue the day you dared to touch a hair on her head! I will have you flayed! I will have you peeled! I will keep you in chains until bloody kingdom come!”

“Fergus, please!” Rowena pleads in a false innocent voice. “I was trying to help the poor girl! One of your minions must have taken umbrage with her!”

“Enough lies, mother!” Crowley barks before reaching under the blood stained pillow and pulling out a hex bag before he casually sets it on fire. “I know your particular spiteful brand of magic anywhere. She is MINE, do you understand the insult you've wrought me?!”

“She's just a silly wee human,” Rowena spat, her fawning demeanour quickly vanishing. “She breaks, you can get another.”

There's a strangled gasp and you assume Crowley is choking her but you're too weak to lift your head.

“There will never _be_ another,” Crowley hisses. “Don't you get it, mother?”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Rowena squeaks out. “Don't tell me you're in love. Pish, the very notion of it...”

“Forgive me if I don't take advice from a woman _incapable_ of love,” Crowley sneers before he snaps his fingers and motions with his hand.

Several burly demons come in and start dragging Rowena away as she kicks and screams.

“Boys, do what you like to her,” Crowley glowers after the retreating group. “Anything goes.”

“Fergus! Please!” Rowena screeches but the sound gets fainter as she is pulled away.

Immediately Crowley is next to you, hands running over your body to check for injuries. You can't even move right now so you just stay still whilst he does it.

“Tell me you're alright, kitten,” he pleads, his powerful tone dropping to one of extreme worry. “Please.”

You just cough in reply, bringing up more of the bile in your throat. You couldn't speak. You felt completely energy-less.

“Tabitha!” Crowley says more urgently. “If I have to bring the Winchester's flying pet rat down to heal you, I will. Just....just say something.”

“Your mother's a colossal bitch,” you manage to rasp out.

Crowley lets out a bellow of laughter in his relief, “I did warn you, pet. Now I'm taking you back to the Bunker. That's quite enough excitement for one day. I don't care if we get caught by the Brothers Grimm.”

He places his hand on your shoulder and the world shifts until you're lying on your own bed. Crowley gently rolls you over and pales a little at the sheer bloodied state of you.

“I will kill her,” he growls.

“Just get me in the shower,” you murmur weakly. “The blood is starting to clot and it's uncomfortable.”

Crowley runs a caring hand over your matted hair, “Not just yet, my love. I need to make sure she's not giving you...lasting damage. Castiel? Castiel I really rather need you right now.”

“What is wrong?” the deadpan voices rings out from somewhere in the corner within mere seconds of the prayer.

“Tabitha is injured. I require your feathery faith healing,” Crowley explains, taking a step back so Castiel can see you.

“What happened?” Castiel says and he almost sounds....angry? You surely couldn't be hearing that right.

“A witch managed to hex her,” Crowley fills him in. “She's now in my dungeons being tortured.”

“Crowley, we talked about this,” Castiel growls. You'd really never heard this tone from him before and it definitely _was_ anger. “You were to protect her and she does not appear to be very protected right now.”

“I don't have eyes on her 24/7 you blithering moron,” Crowley hisses. “I do have a day job if you'll quite remember.”

“That is besides the point,” Castiel counters, rounding on the King of Hell. “You made a pact with me that she would be safe and I would not tell the Winchesters. You have not upheld your side of the bargain.”

“Are you threatening me, you washed up excuse for a feather duster?” Crowley says in a dangerous voice, bristling to stand straight.

“She is hurt, Crowley,” the angel says forcefully. “It was your negligence that did this. You are not fit to continue your courting of her.”

The red flash crept into Crowley's eyes and you knew both beings were about ten seconds away from ripping each other's throats out. There was a charge in the air as both were drawing from unseen power. Definitely time to intervene...

“I think it's my choice what happens actually,” you interrupt. “And I'd quite like to be healed. Even my organs are aching right now.”

“So Feathers,” Crowley goads. “Are you going to stand there admonishing me or are you going to do your Heavenly duty?”

“Do not think I won't smite you where you stand,” Castiel hisses before coming to your side and touching two fingers to your forehead.

You can feel all your aches and pains instantly vanish. Even your throat seems to unstick and you can breathe normally again. Having an angel as a friend really was quite useful when you got yourself into these kinds of situations.

“As if you could, darling,” Crowley snorts. “How's that borrowed grace working out for you by the way?”

“Working well enough that I can still kill you,” Castiel fires back as he looks down at your bloodstained face. “Do you realise how much damage that witch had done to her? She should not have been conscious.”

You shouldn't? Well that was news to you. You guess hours of being put through torture lessons in your Men of Letter days had really upped your pain tolerance.

“Well my Tabitha is a fighter,” Crowley says casually. “She's not going to be taken down so easily.”

“She is not yours, Crowley,” the angel says snappily.

“Oh I rather think you'll find she is,” Crowley chuckles. “Aren't you, kitten?”

“Cas, it's fine,” you say, sitting up. “I'm alright, really. I just got careless.”

Castiel sits on the bed next to you, staring at you with this big blue baleful eyes. He seems to be holding something back because he opens his mouth a few times to speak before shutting it again.

“It is unlike you to be careless,” he finally says. “You would tell me if there was something more going on, wouldn't you?”

“Of course,” you smile. “Crowley never hurt me if that's what you're trying to insinuate, he saved me.”

The angel begrudgingly turns his head to view the King of Hell who was nonchalantly dusting his coat off, “We are going to have another conversation, Crowley.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, “Do we bloody have to? I'd rather not waste my time hearing the same lecture.”

In a motion so fast you could barely register it, Castiel had pinned Crowley to the wall, holding him by the lapels of his coat. The two grappled a little before standing in the middle of the room, both holding a fistful of the other's clothing and glaring at each other.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you say, standing up off of the bed.

“Listen to me, Crowley,” Castiel barks in an authoritative tone you've never ever heard. “If she ever becomes this injured again, I will tell the Winchesters and their wrath will be greater than mine ever could be.”

“You're such an overgrown child!” Crowley growls back. “You're going to run to Mummy and Daddy and tell me on are you? See how that works out for you.”

“Would you just stop?!” you yell, losing your patience. You weren't going to sit and listen to another minute of this useless posturing. “Are you both forgetting I actually have a say in this?”

The two beings separate but not before you see Crowley deliberately rip Castiel's trenchcoat a little in a display of pettiness.

“Thank you,” you sigh. “Now Cas, if you tell Sam and Dean they're not going to go after Crowley, they're going to go after me. Do you realise that? Especially Dean.”

“Your safety is more important than your pride, Tabitha,” Castiel says.

“Dean still has the Mark. He could quite easily kill me if his temper takes over,” you point out.

The angel legitimately huffs before he looks at the floor, mulling it over, “Yes I suppose you are right. Then I would only tell Sam in that case. Tabitha, please realise I am only trying to act in your best interest. Crowley is not protecting you as he should be.”

“Do you really want me to count all the times _you've_ gone missing and we've tried to call for your help?” you say firmly.

Crowley starts heavily chuckling as Castiel looks a little ashamed of himself, “She's got you there, Feathers.”

“I deserved that,” the angel says sadly. “I understand your point. It was just alarming to see you in this state.”

“Trust me, I had no hope of avoiding it,” you say. “I do appreciate your concern though. You've always looked out for me the best you can, even if I'm not a Winchester.”

That seems to perk Castiel up a little because he gives you a small smile, “Of course. You have helped Sam and Dean immensely since coming into their lives. It is only natural I became your friend also.”

“This is getting far too much like a soap opera,” Crowley rolls his eyes.

You ignore him, going to give the angel a tentative hug. Castiel awkwardly returns it.

“Thanks Cas. Glad you still consider me a friend. Would you mind checking how Sam and Dean are doing? They said they were taking some time out and I want to make sure that isn't secret code for 'going hunting'.”

“I will,” Castiel nods before turning to Crowley. “Look after her whilst I'm gone, Crowley. I am serious.”

“I'm _always_ serious when it comes to Tabitha,” Crowley says stoically. “I'm surprised you haven't gotten that by now.”

The angel doesn't bother to stick around to give a reply and you feel the slight breeze as he disappears.

“Angels,” Crowley murmurs with distaste.

“Now can I get in the shower?” you sigh.

“Of course, darling,” Crowley nods, bending down to scoop you up in his arms before he carries you into the bathroom.

Methodically he strips you of your clothing before he turns the water on. Curiously he toes his shoes and socks off before shrugging his overcoat and jacket off too. You're not quite sure why until he steps under the stream of water, pulling you with him.

“You're getting your clothes soaked,” you laugh.

“Darling, I can snap new clothes on me whenever I like,” Crowley chuckles. “I'm not going to be remiss about getting drenched, not when I have a beautiful woman to take care of.”

“I can wash myself, you know,” you smile.

“Such as maybe, pet,” Crowley says before leaning forward and whispering in your ear. “But wouldn't it be better to let me do it?”

You step forward, pressing your body to his as the water cascades over you both sending drops of the blood on your face onto Crowley's shirt, staining it. Neither of you seems to care. In fact, you both just stay there, holding each other as if you're terribly starved for the affection.

“I almost lost you, Tabitha,” Crowley says after the long pause. “I vow to you that situation will never happen again.”

“Not got any disgruntled aunts or uncles waiting for me?” you joke.

“Kitten,” Crowley chides.

“I'm allowed to lighten the mood,” you fake huff. “I did almost die. You can at least allow me gallows humour.”

“So resilient,” Crowley mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “For now I think it would be safer if I visit you here. I'd rather deal with Moose and Squirrel throwing their toys out of the pram if they catch us than let my mother get near you again.”

“Crowley...” you start but trail off slightly. “I'm...I'm glad you heard me.”

“It's not a call I'd ever care to hear again,” Crowley rumbles, pulling you closer to him. “I may have....accidentally killed Charles in my haste to get to you. Shame really. He was a good administrator but he was painfully slow at getting out of my way.”

You end up laughing slightly, picturing the comical scene before you admonish yourself for being that cruel. The demon had hijacked some innocent person's body after all.

“Tabitha, do you blame me?” Crowley asks quietly.

“Of course not,” you say adamantly. “I blame your psychotic mother. I'm not really sure what she was trying to achieve there. Pretty sure if I died I would've ended up in the same place anyway which would've been awkward for her.”

To your surprise, Crowley grips your chin, lifting your head up and looks straight into your eyes, “You would _never_ be a demon, Tabitha. As much as I loathe your work and the merry Winchester band, you are on the side of....good. You save people, you kill the things that go bump in the night. Just because you gave yourself to me darling doesn't mean it erases all of that. That is why I said to you I would rip apart the Heavens to bring you back to life if you died. I already know where you will end up and it will _not_ be with me.”

You're struck at his frankness. In fact, you're struck that he would be so fierce in his desire for you. You knew Crowley loved you but to bring you back to life if you died...well that was some Shakespearean declaration right there.

“What if I want it to be?” you murmur quietly.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that,” Crowley says, a passion igniting in his eyes. “I fell in love with you as you are, kitten. I'll be thrice damned if I let you turn into something like me.”

“You're very harsh on yourself,” you sigh.

“I know what I am, Tabitha,” Crowley says. “It is only because you inspire me to fight against my baser demonic urges that you see me as anything other than a demon. Now, will you be quiet and let me properly wash you, pet? As much as I enjoy holding you close, you're rather covered in blood still.”

“Only if you promise to take your time,” you smirk, finding it amusing that he's deflecting the conversation so heavily.

“Why would I want to rush?” Crowley chuckles, grabbing some shower gel and starting to lather his hands. “I have an example of pure art in front of me and one does not rush their appreciation for fine art.”

Crowley begins moving his hands over your body, almost agonising slow. You feel yourself melting more and more into his touch.

There's a knock at your door and you hear Dean's voice, “Tabs? You in there?”

You instantly freeze and Crowley just gives you a tender kiss on the cheek before vanishing immediately. You note his clothes have disappeared along with him.

“I'm in the shower, Dean!” you call.

“Is it ok if I talk to you through the door?” Dean asks.

“Sure,” you reply.

There's the sound of your bedroom door being opened and then you hear a sharp intake of breath. You're not sure why but seconds later when Dean bursts into the bathroom you understand.

“Tabs?! There's blood all over your bed! What the hell happened?!” he shouts in his alarm.

“Jesus Dean!” you shriek, making sure the shower curtain is fully closed. “I'm showering!”

“You tell me you're ok otherwise I'm yanking this curtain back,” Dean orders.

“I'm fine. I went on a solo hunt,” you lie. “I got bored of hanging around but this redheaded witch blindsided me.”

You can see Dean's silhouette through the curtain. His movements look anxious and it's making you nervous that he'll just jump into the shower with you to check on you.

“This witch...wouldn't happen to go by Rowena would she?” Dean says in a low voice.

“You know her?!” you cry.

“Yeah, the bitch tried to kill us not so long ago,” Dean hisses. “She went after you too?”

“Found a hex bag in my car,” you reply. “Almost didn't make it.”

“I'd say it's time to burn her at the stake,” Dean growls. “You ok, princess?”

“Castiel healed me,” you say, still feeling incredibly awkward that you were naked and Dean was inches away from you.

“Good,” Dean nods. “I...uh....I'll go. Let you shower and then we can talk more. Yeah...I'll do that.”

You see him rub the back of his head in an embarrassed way before leaving the bathroom. The breath you didn't know you'd been holding released in a long sigh.

You quickly wash yourself and step into some fresh clothing before coming back out to the bedroom and....well you can see why Dean was panicking. It looked like you'd been murdered in your sleep.

You look to your bedside table and see your notifications are flashing on your phone so you make for it.

 

**Not Lover: Just thought you might like to know, my mother is currently in chains and being flayed. Also I will finish where we left off. I'll pop in the next time you're showering.**

**Tabitha: Dean and Sam have run into your mother apparently. They want to kill her.**

**Not Lover: They can take a ticket and join the queue.**

**Tabitha: Before I go to sleep, will you visit?**

**Not Lover: Of course darling.**

**Tabitha: See you later then.**

**Not Lover: Looking forward to it.**

 

You set the phone down before you take a deep breath. You knew this was going to be a conversation with the Winchesters where you were going to have to lie through your back teeth and you hated doing it but they could never find out the real reason....

You instinctively touch the crown mark on your hip.

They could never find out the real reason you almost died today....

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Protective Cas is protective <3


	21. A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed since Rowena has tried to kill you and now you get a surprising lead on a foe from a disappearing inmate on Death Row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! A long chapter!  
> Sorry this has taken a while to get out. I've been simultaneously trying to work on my four ongoing fics and getting some cosplays ready for con season. It's been a tough time!
> 
> Warnings: Violence, Angst
> 
> Any prompts/comments/private messages, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and my tumblr is theliveshipparagon (which I will get round to updating at some point!)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP x
> 
> (Generic suck at proofreading message)

“Hey look at this!” Dean says in pure excitement. “Inmate disappeared in a high security prison. Ah man that is so Shawshank!”

“Why exactly is that something we should be looking at?” Sam asks confused.

“Because Sammy, psychos like this don't just Houdini their way out of a jail cell that's got constant CCTV monitoring.”

“Alright, if you wanna visit, we'll visit. Tabitha, you up for that?” Sam asks you as you bite into your breakfast.

“Why not?” you shrug. “I've not been out for a while.”

“Hell yeah, the dream team is back,” Dean grins. “I'm gonna stock up.”

He disappears quickly, almost leaping in his enjoyment. You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. You weren't sure if he was making a conscious effort to be happy or was just glad he wasn't a demon any more but either way you'd take it.

It'd certainly been a strange few weeks since Crowley's mother had almost killed you. More ghosts were popping up than you'd ever seen before, monsters seemed to be congregating together and....yeah, Dean got turned into a fourteen year old. That was definitely an interesting time having a Dean who'd just hit puberty fawning around you....

“Glad you're coming out with us,” Sam smiles. “I know you've been out here and there but this feels like...I don't know, a proper case again?”

“I get what you mean,” you smile back. “You know I just needed some time.”

Sam leans in closer and lowers his voice, “How are you doing on that by the way? I'm hearing less and less screams in the night.”

You blush. Since you had the delightful combo of Demon Dean almost raping you and Rowena ripping your insides to shreds you'd had the worst nightmares. The boys would often find you yelling at some ungodly hour and Sam would have to comfort you whilst Dean awkwardly stood to the side. To their credit, they never pushed you too hard to speak about things.

During those nights you'd also sometimes catch the faint scent of cologne and knew that Crowley had been watching over you too. Sometimes you'd find a hidden box of expensive chocolates in your wardrobe or keepsakes from England randomly appearing in your chest of drawers. You really appreciated those little gestures. Today you'd found a small wrapped box with a silver necklace in it and a crown pendant dangling from it, dripping in tiny jewels.

Crowley was nothing if not humourous at times.

“I'm doing a lot better,” you nod, touching your necklace on instinct. “I didn't even dream at all last night.”

“That's good,” Sam smiles widely and takes your hand before squeezing it gently. “And like I say, if you need-”

“Anyone to talk to, you're here,” you finish for him, grinning. Sam had been telling you this for weeks now.

“Uh yeah,” Sam laughs. “That. Well I'll get prepared and we'll meet back here ok?”

“Ok,” you nod before disappearing back into your room.

You take the opportunity to get a quick picture of you wearing the necklace and send it to Crowley.

  


**Tabitha: You just love putting crowns on me, don't you?**

**Not Lover: My Queen deserves the finest adornments and it does suit you immensely well.**

**Tabitha: And my King deserves something special the next time I see him.**

**Not Lover: Darling, I told you. Not while I'm in a meeting. Sitting gets rather uncomfortable.**

**Tabitha: Oops ;). I'm out on a case today so I'll text you later.**

**Not Lover: Be safe kitten. Don't listen to anything Moose and Squirrel have to say.**

**Tabitha: When have you ever known me to let them run the show too much?**

**Not Lover: Fair. Just be safe. I want my Queen in one piece.**

**Tabitha: Duly noted.**

  


Now Crowley was informed, you gathered what items you needed and put on your FBI suit before meeting the boys in the War Room.

“Hey, long time no see Scully,” Dean smirks to which he receives a gentle punch to the arm. “Ow! Geez!”

“That wasn't even hard Dean. Stop being a baby,” you roll your eyes and catch Sam trying to suppress a snort.

Dean insisted you all go in the Impala and you didn't feel like arguing that point too much. It certainly seemed a lot more fitting to arrive as FBI in a sleek black car rather than your tan muscle car.

You hit West Virginia and the brothers are playing some morbid game of serial killer bingo it seems like.

“The Zodiac?” Dean asks.

“Seven victims,” Sam answers.

“Dahmer?”

“Seventeen victims.”

“That's some freaky stuff, man,” Dean murmurs, a bit perturbed.

“It's called true crime Dean. It's a well known hobby,” Sam fires back, turning slightly red.

“No. Bass fishing, needlepoint ...that's a hobby, okay? Collecting serial-killer stats ...that's ...that is an illness,” Dean says, widening his eyes for effect.

“Harold Shipman?” you chime in, curious to see just how deep Sam was into his serial killer fascination.

“Two hundred and fifteen victims,” Sam answers almost immediately.

“Yeah, you're definitely too into that,” you laugh.

“What she said,” Dean nods. “You need to get laid little brother and fast...”

You pull up at the prison gate and Dean has some back and forth with the guard before you're let into the complex.

“Alright, so what's the state of play here?” Dean asks, looking at you in the rear view mirror.

“Tommy Tolliver was convicted of six murders back in '09, but those are just the ones that stuck. He was on death row at the time of his disappearance,” you say, reading your notes.

“So some kind of mass murdering magician?” Dean muses.

“Or some kind of teleporting demon who can walk through the walls of a Super-Max,” Sam offers.

“Guess we'll find out. Buckle up kids,” Dean says, parking the car.

When you get into the prison, you find it hilariously bad just how terrible the security is. You'd only had the briefest glance at your badges and no one had thought to check your stories. Then again, you supposed people didn't try to waltz into prisons every day.

“Warden Skeiff?” Dean asks, leading your little party to the death row cell where a man is squatting on the floor looking at a bloodstain.

“We're Inspectors Giraldo, Grombacher and Benatar. We spoke on the phone,” Sam cuts in.

“Yeah welcome to Death Row, take a look around,” the warden says, sighing. “But good luck finding anything out of TDJC compliance.”

“Mind telling us what happened last night?” you ask, taking out a notepad and your expensive pen just to seem like you were an official.

“The night he disappeared this ship was running tight as ever and I have the docs to prove it,” the warden says defensively.

“Do you stand by what the press said?” you ask. “That it was gross incompetence or a security breach?”

“Listen lady,” the warden sighs. “The media are calling for my head on a spike but the tabloids are saying...”

You're watching the two boys out of the corner of your eye wandering about with their EMF detectors and you knew you had to keep this guy distracted.

“Yes, I'm well aware they're suggesting some kind of magic has gone on,” you say. “Some dark miracle.”

“There may have been but it wasn't from Tommy,” the warden says quietly before motioning you out to where the monitor room is.

He sets up a recording and you watch as the lights go out before coming back on.

“Some kind of blackout?” you ask.

“That's what I thought but look,” the warden says, pointing to the screen and you see a tall guy with long grey hair.

“Giraldo, Grombacher, get in here,” you call to Sam and Dean who enter the room.

You swear Dean freezes on the spot and he looks worried. He must know who the guy is on the monitor. You watch as he covers the spot on his arm where the Mark is and instantly you work it out.

That's Cain.

  


**

  


Crowley is lounging on his throne, playing games on his phone as three griping crossroads demons all vied for his attention about credit or some other such tedious notion. He was sincerely bored...dangerously bored. He'd often have your texts and pictures to keep him entertained on days where you couldn't see each other but now you were going back out on hunts again you were being silent for long stretches of time and that didn't sit very well with him.

“Fine you can have your credit,” he says dismissively.

He hears a scoff from the back of the room and rolls his eyes.

“Mother, do you have something you wish to share?” he grunts.

He'd had to let her out of her chains, if only to stop her constant whining and begging. Crowley knew she was being manipulative but some part of him still clung onto the idea that she was his blood, his family. It was a monumental error and he knew it would come back to haunt him someday but perhaps he just had too many mummy issues to sort through at this point. That didn't mean he'd forgiven her for what she'd done to you though. Oh no...he'd never forgive that.

“Just a private thought,” Rowena says innocently. “Nothing to do with your affairs of course.”

Crowley had a feeling a 'but' was coming.

“I was thinking...” Rowena continues, confirming his theory. “Whiners beget whiners. You can't reward behaviour like that...why I never gave in when you asked for sweeties as a child, no matter how much you cried. Well, you were a very...chunky child, darling. Bit of a bloater.”

_Bloody hell will you ever shut up?!_

“That's enough!” Crowley roars, losing his temper and he sees his mother visibly wince.

_You may think you hold power here but you're sorely mistaken. Once you're good and comfortable, I'll rip your world out from under you._

“Your majesty?” one of the demons prompts.

“Take him away and cut him in two,” Crowley dismisses, waving to his two bodyguard minions in the corner.

“That's my boy,” Rowena coos, ruffling his hair. “Now I'd just like to ask a wee favour.”

“Of course you would mother,” Crowley sighs, rubbing his temple. “I know you've been running the long con here, trying to appease me, beg for my forgiveness...”

“And I'm ever so sorry for trying to kill your little human girlfriend,” Rowena fawns. “But haven't we had fun today, my wee sausage? What does it matter if this does have a motive?”

Crowley's interrupted by his phone ringing and he pulls it out to see Dean's number flashing.

“Hello?” he answers, ignoring Rowena completely.

“Cain's back. He's gone dark and I need the Blade,” Dean gruffly orders.

“Now why would I do that?” Crowley says, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

“Because you're on Cain's kill list so you have as good a reason as any to want him off the board,” Dean replies.

“Hmmm,” Crowley ponders out loud for dramatic effect. “I'll consider it if Tabitha asks me.”

“Sonova....” Dean hisses but Crowley hears a rustling and Dean speaking faintly. “He wants to talk to you Tabs. Says he'll only consider it if you ask...goddamn dickbag...”

“I heard you wanted to speak to me?” you say and Crowley can't hide the smile that spreads on his face.

“Hello darling,” he purrs. “You really need to teach the squirrel some manners.”

“Are you riling him up again?” you ask harshly but Crowley hears the hint of mirth in your tone. He knows you well enough by now to listen for the subtle nuances.

“Perhaps,” Crowley answers cagily. “Now I hear you have a problem that requires the Blade?”

“Yes we do, so are you in?” you say.

“Always, pet,” Crowley affirms. “I'll see you shortly. Ta ta.”

He hangs up and he can practically feel the murderous rage behind his mother's eyes as she bores her gaze into his head.

“And just like that you'd abandon your own mother to go...gallivanting around with your human plaything and that Winchester boy?” she spits.

“Don't you dare call her that,” Crowley glowers, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone.

“Tabitha then,” Rowena says mockingly. “We've talked about what this does for your reputation, Fergus. It makes you seem weak. Honestly, I didn't raise you to fall in love with an English girl, least of all a hunter!”

“MOTHER!” Crowley snaps. “Will you be quiet for even one second?! The whole of my dominion knows that woman is mine and that one day she'll sit beside me so in the politest possible way...button it.”

“Well I never!” Rowena huffs. “Ungrateful little boy!”

“We are not having this conversation,” Crowley rolls his eyes before leaving the throne room to go to his personal chambers.

On the way he sends you a text, trying to alleviate some of the anger Rowena had stoked in him.

  


**Not Lover: Tell me you love me right now or I may go insane from the politics down here.**

**Tabitha: I love you and I'm stealing a kiss when the boys aren't looking.**

**Not Lover: You are exquisite my love. See you soon.**

  


Well he felt a little better now. It certainly hadn't been easy in the last few weeks to maintain regular visits considering you were both confined to meeting at the bunker. Crowley hated it but he'd rather have five minutes here and there with you in relative safety than expose you to his mother again.

Sometimes he'd pop in and watch you sleep for a little while, knowing you'd been having horrid nightmares about Dean and Rowena. It pained him to see you so distressed and he'd often find himself getting into the bed with you and holding you tightly until the dreams passed....not that you ever woke up to find that out of course. Not that he'd particularly care if you did. He just wanted you to be safe and to be happy.

Some long forgotten boyish part of him brimmed with excitement. He'd get to see you today...for a good length of time.

_It's been too long, my love. I miss you._

  


_**_

  


After both a stilted conversation with Cas who seemed to know a little of what was going on with the escaped convict and your quick chat with Crowley, you're now all heading to the bunker to meet up.

Once you're there, you're greeted by the angel who appears more sullen than usual.

“I am sorry I cannot bring you better news,” Castiel says grimly. “It appears Tommy Tolliver is part of Cain's bloodline and he's wiping out anyone related to him.”

“So who's next?” Dean asks. “Is he done with the Tolliver family?”

Sam looks up from his laptop screen, “I can't find any other relatives so I think so.”

“Wait,” you say, finding a stray birth certificate on the database you were looking at. “There's an estranged son.”

“Say what now?” Dean queries.

“Austin Reynolds,” you read. “He's 12 and he lives in Ohio with his mother.”

“Is he still alive?” Sam asks.

“Well if his Facebook is anything to go by,” you say, turning the computer screen around so they can see the asinine status the kid posted only an hour ago.

“But he's a kid,” Sam says firmly. “He wouldn't...would he?”

“Cain would,” Castiel deadpans. “He would not hesitate. I saw the mass graves of the other people he's killed. Men, women, the elderly. A child would not pose an issue for him.”

“Right right, so it's a fire sale and everyone must go. I get it,” Dean says, turning to go to his room.

“Where are you going?” Sam asks confused.

“The kids in danger, Sammy,” Dean says gruffly. “We know where Cain's heading so we'll be waiting.”

“And what are you going to do exactly?” Sam challenges.

“Well I guess I'm just gonna have to kill Cain,” Dean shrugs. “He always said there'd be a day where I might have to put him down.”

You sense a Winchester argument forming so you gravitate over to the angel to let them hash it out. They both move to Dean's bedroom where you can hear an awful lot of Sam's soothing protests clashing with Dean's rough resolve.

“Is it a good time to ask if Crowley is treating you correctly still?” Castiel murmurs and you're surprised he's being so discreet about it.

“I'm fine Cas,” you reassure him. “But thank you for the concern.”

“Alright,” the angel nods. “Just because he will have to accompany us and I do not wish for you to get hurt again.”

You turn to Cas and gently squeeze his shoulder, “It really wasn't his fault, you know. He did his best to save me.”

Castiel is silent for a moment, seemingly processing something before he turns those baleful blue eyes onto you, “I have seen many human movies recently.”

You're wondering where this is going but you let him continue.

“And relationships such as this appear to either win out or end with the lovers' death. I do not wish for yours to become the latter. I am...fond of you, Tabitha.”

“I'm fond of you too, Cas,” you laugh. “Trust me, if I thought this was going to go sideways, I'd do everything I could to stop it.”

“Forgive me,” Castiel says looking at the floor. “You are a grown woman, you can take care of yourself.”

“It's nice that you worry about me,” you smile. “And it's nice that someone knows and I can talk to them. Can't exactly talk to those two, can I?” You motion to the bedrooms where the voices are getting louder and louder and more heated.

“I suppose not,” the angel mumurs. “You are welcome to discuss things with me any time, Tabitha.”

“Likewise,” you nod. “You ever have a problem you can't talk to Sam and Dean about, I'm here.”

Castiel completely surprises you by pulling you into a hug. He'd definitely been on earth for far too long if he was picking up human traits like this.

“Thank you. I genuinely mean that,” he says.

Both Sam and Dean choose that moment to walk in, of course.

“Something we should know about?” Dean says and you can hear the slight edge of curtness in his voice.

“Tabitha has offered to listen to my problems should I need assistance so I am thanking her in the human way you have shown me,” Castiel says and you're internally thanking him for being that quick on his feet. “Or was that not correct?”

Despite himself Dean laughs and as you break away from the angel you catch Sam smiling too so you give him a cross eyed expression just to keep the mood up.

“No, Cas, that's how we do it here,” Dean grins. “Alright buckle up, princess. We're shipping out.”

  


**

  


When you reach the Reynolds Barn in Ohio, Cas goes on ahead to check whether the kid is around.

“He's upstairs in the barn playing with a basketball,” the angel informs you as he returns.

“Cain's gonna be here soon,” Dean murmurs. “And when he shows...”

“Yeah, I got it. You charge in with the Blade solo and the kid? What, we just watch and wait until Cain attacks? I thought this was a rescue mission,” Sam says seriously.

“We save the kid after Cain shows,” Dean says firmly.

“Wait, so you want to use a 12 year old as bait?!” you cry in alarm. “Are you listening to yourself?! I can't believe this.”

“Neither can I,” the voice of Crowley comes from behind you and you turn to see him standing there.

He flashes you a small wink before striding confidently over.

“Too good to put a minor in danger, Crowley?” Dean asks sarcastically. “Or do you just agree with everything Tabs says now?”

“Don't give a damn about the kid. I'm talking about the risk to us,” Crowley drawls.

Dean huffs loudly before throwing his hands out, “There is no _us_. You're just here to give me the damn Blade.”

“About that,” Crowley mutters before pacing slightly. “I think your rag tag Scooby gang would agree it's better if I keep hold of it until Cain is nicely sewn up...you know...given your track record.”

“He's got a point, Dean,” Sam nods. “It would be safer.”

“So now _you're_ agreeing with him?” Dean scoffs. “What is this? Freaky Friday?”

“We just want to make sure you don't harm any innocent people,” you say quietly and Dean shuts his mouth the second that sentence hangs in the air.

There's an unspoken wordlessness that passes between you and you see the briefest flash of regret and sadness in Dean's eyes. He knows what you're saying is true but he still doesn't want to admit he has a problem and he definitely doesn't want to admit Crowley is right.

“Tabs?” he asks softly, looking for your permission.

“Just trust that we know what's best,” you say reassuringly, giving him a brief smile.

“Alright,” Dean acquiesces. “What she said. We get Cain and then I get the Blade.”

“Marvellous,” Crowley purrs. “Now...let's discuss this plan because I believe I have a better one.”

  


**

  


You're all huddled outside the barn, watching the kid throw the basketball around and singing to himself with his earphones in.

“So we capture Cain and then what?” Sam whispers.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Dean murmurs back. “You know last week, when I said that I would go down swinging when the time came? I meant that I was at peace with that. I just didn't realize the time would come so soon, you know, like right now. I'm scared.”

It was a rare thing for Dean to confess his inner most feelings and you find your hand grasping his and squeezing it tightly to give him some reassurance.

“We're here with you, Dean-o,” you smile. “We'll get you through this.”

“Thanks, sweetcheeks,” Dean says, returning the smile but it's a little forced. “Sure glad you're both here with me.”

You can feel the grim disapproving stare of Crowley as he looks at yours and Dean's intertwined hands but his expression changes when you touch the crown brand on your hip and give him a look. Crowley's face changes to a softer countenance after that and you feel the gentle brush of his hand on your back.

“Someone there?” Austin calls and your attention is immediately diverted to the scene in the barn.

You can see the tall imposing figure you saw on the monitor with his steely hair and even steelier gaze fixating on the kid in front of him.

Cain.

“Hello Austin,” he says dryly.

“Who are you?” the kid murmurs, stepping back a little.

“I'm here to kill you,” Cain says nonchalantly.

“Oh no you don't,” Castiel growls, appearing from the shadows and turning to Austin. “Run!”

The kid books it out of there and Castiel unleashes his angelic fury...only it does nothing but blow Cain's hair back slightly as if he sent a puff of air. The angel looks heavily confused before Cain flicks his wrist and Castiel's angel blade goes sailing out of his hand. One more flick and Castiel joins it, crashing into the pick up truck outside and falling into the truck bed.

Meanwhile Sam's grabbed Austin and pulled him further into the barn. There's an almighty thunderous boom as the doors rattle and shake in their hinges before it goes quiet and you see Cain appearing right behind Sam, knife raised.

“Don't!” Austin cries before the knife is plunged into him.

You take great enjoyment as Cain watches the illusion of Austin dissipate into purple smoke. Score one for Team Free Will!

“Illusion spell, huh?” Cain says and his voice is low and raspy.

“Oh yeah,” Sam nods, readying himself for a fight. “The real Austin is long gone.”

“18th Century magic if I'm not mistaken,” Cain continues, mulling his situation over as you watch Crowley enter the barn.

“My mother can be useful on occasion,” Crowley purrs, standing with his hands behind his back near Sam.

Cain shifts some hay with his boot to uncover the Devil's Trap you'd painstakingly painted onto the ground.

“Clever,” Cain muses. “Won't hold me for long you know.”

“It won't need to,” Sam says bravely before him and Crowley come out to rejoin you and even Cas manages to extract himself from the truck bed.

“My turn,” Dean smirks.

“You don't have to do this alone,” you say quietly.

“Sure I do, princess,” Dean murmurs, looking at you a little sadly. “I'd be too worried about what he could do to you...or what _I_ could do to you. I've not exactly got the greatest record on that one. Besides, I need my A team outside in case I don't quite make it.”

“Alright,” you nod and motion for Crowley to bring the Blade over.

“What guarantee do I have that you'll return this?” Crowley asks hesitantly before handing it across.

“If I survive and I come out of there and I don't give it back, you'll all have a much bigger problem on your hands,” Dean says grimly before walking into the barn and sliding the door shut behind him.

Now you're just playing the waiting game and you don't like it one bit. You're anxious, wondering if Dean is going to come out completely overtaken by the Mark or whether he'll even come out at all. You even start pacing in front of the barn doors.

“Calm down, Tabitha,” Sam says in what he thinks is a soothing manner but in reality it just frustrates you more. “You gotta have hope.”

“I just...I hate sitting around and waiting,” you spit. “It's driving me mad not knowing what's going on.”

“I could go check,” Castiel offers.

“No it's fine, Cas,” you say quickly. “Stick to the plan.”

“There's a window near the rear if you'd like to check on him you know,” Crowley drawls from behind you. “I know you like to mother him so.”

You know Crowley is just playing up the rivalry for Sam's sake but it does touch a nerve with you and you huff before stalking around the side of the barn, ignoring Sam's protests.

“Cas, go with her,” you hear Sam say in a panic.

“I think Crowley should go,” Castiel says. “He is the one who is angered her after all. He can apologise.”

“Fine, whatever,” Sam concedes. “Just somebody go make sure she doesn't get into trouble.”

As you turn the corner, Crowley is directly in front of you, his arms open and waiting.

“I apologise for that little display, kitten,” he murmurs upon seeing your annoyed expression. “I meant nothing by it. I was just hoping I could get you alone.”

“I'm too tense,” you say, fidgeting with your coat.

“Come here, my love,” Crowley coos, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly. “Don't be so worried. If there's one thing I've learned about Sam and Dean it's that not even the apocalypse stops them. Don't underestimate them, pet.”

“I just hate being on the sidelines like this,” you hiss, burying your face into Crowley's chest.

“Darling if you think I'm letting you go anywhere near Cain you have another thing coming,” Crowley rumbles. “And if you try and get in there I'll be immensely cross with you.”

“So I just have to wait,” you sigh.

“If it's any consolation...” Crowley starts before he runs a hand through your hair and inhales the scent. “I have missed you and I'm glad I get to hold you again.”

“Thank you for looking after me,” you murmur, your hand curling into his shirt for some stability. “During the nights I mean. I know you pop in.”

“Do you now?” Crowley smirks.

“Always smells like cologne when I wake up,” you explain. “It's comforting.”

Crowley lets loose an immense sigh before he places a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I wish we didn't have to hide, kitten. I would love nothing better than to spend entire nights with you. Perhaps then I could comfort you properly.”

You had to admit, you were feeling more relaxed already. Crowley seemed to have a knack for drawing calmness out of you these days. You reach up and take his bristled cheek in your hand before pulling him down into a kiss. He practically purrs against you, a low groan trapped in his chest.

“Oh, darling,” he says after you break away. “I really have missed you. Promise me you'll send the two chuckleheads away sometime so I can reclaim my Queen.”

“I promise,” you smile. “If we all live through this I'll send them on a goose chase for an entire weekend.”

Crowley's eyes practically dilate, “Don't tease me with that, kitten. You know I'll hold you to your word.”

“Then hold me to it,” you shrug. “And then you can hold something else to me.”

There's a strangled grunt that comes from the King of Hell as he fights with himself to keep his hands in check.

“There are succubi that aren't half as tempting as you are, Tabitha,” he says in a low husky voice. “But we digress. I was meaning to show you that window.”

He coughs slightly, adjusting his clothing before he takes your hand and pulls you to a window hidden behind hay bales. Once you're able to clear them you can now see into the barn and you almost blanch as you spot Cain punching Dean repeatedly.

“I have to-” you start but Crowley cuts you off.

“No, pet. He has to do this alone. As much as I despise the phrase...have faith.”

He grips you tightly in place as you watch the fight. It goes against every instinct as a hunter to let this just play out without jumping in there to help but you know Crowley is not going to let go of you.

You're relieved when you see Dean plunge the First Blade into Cain but that's only half the battle. The next is knowing whether the Mark will do its work and completely erase Dean's good nature.

“Come, my love,” Crowley mutters. “We'd best get back. Don't want to trigger Dean if he's gone 'all work and no play'...”

You're rather inclined to agree. If Dean wasn't himself any more, seeing you and Crowley sneaking back like two teenagers was just going to unleash chaos.

You make your way back round and you give Sam a thumbs up, nodding to the barn door to indicate Dean would be coming out soon. Both Sam and Castiel ready their weapons and you all form a line.

Dean comes out of the doors, blood on his face and slightly limping. He doesn't seem particularly angry, more despondent if anything. Whatever was said during that fight had taken a lot out of him.

“Dean?” Sam prompts.

Dean gives a wry smile before walking over and handing the First Blade to Castiel. You feel Crowley tensing next to you.

“You lied to me, Dean,” Crowley says in a dark tone.

“Not for the first time today,” Dean shoots back. “You were never on Cain's kill list.”

Dean takes one more step forward before he collapses onto the floor and you and Sam both panic, trying to prop him back up.

“Hey hey hey, it's over. You did it,” Sam says soothingly. “It's over, Dean.”

The look in Dean's eyes tells you a very different story. When he turns his gaze to you, you're sure he knows you understand exactly what's going on in his head. He was scared, genuinely afraid. You don't press that particular issue though. Dean needed time to get lost in his own head before he would talk to you about it.

“Well I sense I am no longer required,” Crowley says in a thinly veiled hiss. “Stellar as ever boys. Next time you need a favour, it'll take more than Tabitha's sweet words.”

“Not now, Crowley!” Sam snaps, cradling his brother.

“Never trust a Winchester,” Crowley spits. “Tabitha. A word.”

There was nothing good that could come out of a tone like that. When Crowley pulls you out of view, you're pressed backwards into the rough wood of the barn's exterior wall.

“I am seriously losing my patience with them, pet,” he rasps. “My mother may be the living embodiment of evil but she's right. The Winchesters are not my allies. They use me time and time again.”

“I thought your mother was chained away?” you ask quietly before you see the guilty look on Crowley's face. “You let her out, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Crowley admits, not looking you in the eye.

“Why did you do that? After what she did to me...” you trail off. “You knew I was having nightmares about it and you still let her go free?”

“Listen,” Crowley flusters. “You wouldn't understand-”

“I understand perfectly,” you say firmly. “She manipulated you and you fell for it hook, line and sinker. Do you know what she said to me when she was killing me, Crowley? Do you?”

“No,” the King of Hell mutters uncomfortably.

“She said no one was going to take you away from her. Don't you see what she's doing? She's trying to implant this idea in your head that they're against you and I'm pretty sure her next tactic will be trying to convince you that _I'm_ against you too.”

“It's not like that, Tabitha,” Crowley glowers. “You saw what Dean did with the Blade.”

“Yes, he handed it to Castiel because he knows Rowena and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want her finding it,” you challenge him.

“I'm not having this argument now, kitten,” Crowley growls.

“Then when?” you hiss, losing your temper completely. “I can't believe you let her out. All of that rubbish about comforting me through the trauma and you just want to cause me more.”

“ENOUGH!” Crowley barks, his eyes flashing red for the briefest second. “Don't EVER accuse me of wanting to hurt you. You're mine. I would kill the entire bloody population of Heaven, Hell and Earth for you. Don't you get that?”

“What the hell is going on?!” Sam says, having just come round the corner to see you pinned to the wall and Crowley shouting in your face. “Get the hell off of her!”

“As you wish,” Crowley says grimly, letting you go and stepping back. “I'll take my leave, shall I?”

With one furiously raised eyebrow, he takes another step back before vanishing completely and not giving you a chance to say anything more.

“Bloody arsehole!” you yell, turning around and punching the wall which scuffs your knuckles.

“Woah, hey!” Sam cries, running over and hugging you. “He's gone. It's alright. Come on, let's get you home.”

You all pile into the Impala but you don't join in with the conversation. You're still too busy seething to think straight.

_Why would you betray my trust like this...again! I thought you loved me...._

  


**

  


Crowley sat on his throne, absolutely fuming still. Not only had the Winchesters royally twirled him for his assistance, you were now angry with him to boot.

He felt torn. On the one hand, his mother had been proven right that the brothers were no friends to him...on the other, he'd probably set you back in your recovery from your near death experience.

“It breaks my heart to see what a colossal numbnuts you've become, Fergus,” Rowena says, fussing around him. “You're a ruler in name alone but you're just a bored wee boy who panders to Heaven's favourite playthings.”

“Oh do be quiet, mother,” Crowley growls.

“And your little lass just watched it all happen and didn't even defend you...I mean, she can't love you that much, can she?” Rowena continues. “She must be ashamed of you and lord knows I feel the same right now but to not even try to help you? That's just a romance of convenience, my wee sausage.”

And there it was, just like you said. His mother was trying to turn him against you. It hadn't even been an hour since he'd come back to Hell and she had already started.

He cast his mind back to the horror struck expression on your face as you worked out Rowena was free and the tiny spark of fear in your eyes. He'd caused that. He'd caused you pain.

_She trusted me to keep her safe from harm and I broke that trust again. My kitten...forgive me. You were right. You were right all along._

But would he get the chance to tell you that now?

  


 

 


	22. Reformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Rowena's claws dig ever tighter into Crowley, has she shattered your relationship for good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, I'm so sorry this has taken a while to get out!
> 
> I've been away and then doing overtime so it's not left a lot of room for writing.
> 
> Warnings: Angst, Smut
> 
> My email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com if you wanna talk/send one shots/prompts etc and my tumblr is theliveshipparagon which I will update at some point!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> _ TLP xx
> 
> (Again, I suck at proofreading!)

“Arsehole!” you hiss, throwing your dufflebag hard against the wall of the entrance lobby to the bunker.

“Tabitha, calm down,” Sam says imploringly. “Don't let Crowley get to you.”

“Too late for that,” you growl, tightening your hands into fists.

“Come on, princess,” Dean says lightly. “I'm meant to be the loose cannon here, not you.”

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I'm just...I'm pissed off.”

“We get it,” Sam nods. “Crowley's not exactly a beacon of heroicness.”

_But he has been..._

You shake the stray thought from your mind. Crowley had saved you on a number of occasions, despite his...occupation. You'd even go so far as to say your influence was affecting him greatly but it didn't seem to be enough. There was always some action, some words that brought it straight home that he was the King of Hell and nothing would ever change that nature.

“I need to throw something else,” you huff, your shoulders tense.

“We can throw down if you wanna?” Dean offers. “Be like the good ol' days where you kicked my ass whilst training.”

“I appreciate the offer Dean but you just fought Cain. You need rest,” you say.

“Sammy can do it then,” Dean points to his brother who backs up a little.

“Woah, no thank you,” Sam says quickly.

“Ah come on, you're not scared of Tabs are you?” Dean grins.

“I've seen what she does to you when sparring,” Sam says warily. “And I'm not gonna go there.”

“Looks like it's the punching bag for you then, sweetcheeks,” Dean says patting you on the shoulder. “Unless you wanna call Cas.”

You think it over for a while. Cas was the only person who knew your situation so technically you could talk it out whilst you also worked off your aggression.

“You know what, I just might,” you muse. “Rest up guys.”

“Later, Tabs,” Dean nods, heading straight to his bedroom.

You give Sam a look which he returns. Dean was most definitely not okay but if he was rushing off to his room he needed space.

“I'll talk to him when he's ready,” Sam says softly to you.

“So the second weekend of never,” you smirk.

Sam laughs and gives you a quick hug, “Go on, Tabitha. You work off the anger. It'll be much healthier than what Dean's doing and god knows we need someone to keep a level head around here.”

With that he walks out of the war room.

Level head huh? You often wonder how exactly the Winchesters have managed all these years without you. They were complete emotional trainwrecks that needed mothering a lot. Then again....with their family history it was a miracle they weren't more mentally screwed up than they are.

You wouldn't know how you'd be as a person if your family was killed like the brothers' ones were. Maybe you'd be just as angry at the world, despondent even at having to save it all the time. No breaks, no rest. Just one apocalyptic crisis after another and no back up of a countrywide organisation to help.

_What if I'd lost Alistair that night that Crowley threatened him? I'm sure I'd be a mess._

Damn it, you were thinking about Crowley again without meaning to.

“Cas?” you call once you reach the gym area. “Cas are you there?”

A rush of air and a flap of wings and the eternally perplexed Castiel appears behind you.

“Hello Tabitha,” he nods. “Is there something you needed?”

“Yeah actually,” you say. “Two things. Firstly someone to talk to and secondly someone to spar with.”

Castiel's eyes practically illuminate, “You want to...you want to confide in me?”

“If your offer still stands?” you ask.

The biggest grin appears on the angel's face, “Of course. I'm happy you trust me enough with this. This is...this is true friendship isn't it?”

Castiel was amazingly adorable sometimes. His reactions to you made you feel happy by proxy. It was almost contagious how much he was smiling.

“Well you _are_ my friend, Cas,” you point out.

“Considering your previous animosity towards angels I consider that very high praise,” Castiel nods courteously. “What do you wish to tell me?”

“Crowley and I are...having difficulties,” you sigh. “After Rowena tried to kill me he assured me she was locked away in his dungeons but when we fought Cain, I found out he'd let her go and she is almost...advising him now. She's trying to turn him against Sam and Dean and also me and he doesn't even seem to grasp that. I feel like we've hit the proverbial wall with how far we can go if he is still lying to me like this.”

The angel listens patiently to your burst of rambling speech and processes things for a while.

“Family ties are hard to sever,” Cas nods. “It is my belief that Rowena has only recently returned into his life after some three hundred years. He may still be clinging to the idea that she is his mother, even though her actions are anything but maternal.”

“It's like his whole personality changed,” you muse. “Like he wasn't confident any more, like he was less....less....”

“Like he was not the King of Hell?” Castiel offers.

“Kind of,” you say, trying to find the right words and simultaneously trying not to embarrass yourself. “Crowley's always been an overwhelmingly...dominant force I guess? Now he seems quite under the thumb.”

“Ah,” the angel shifts uncomfortably. “I understand now. May I offer some advice?”

You're hesitant but you nod anyway.

“Crowley needs to learn of his mother's intentions by himself and make his own decision. If you try and force it it will drive distance between you.”

You're in shock. Castiel's advice was...actually good?! You'd never have thought the angel would be that well versed in relationship dynamics.

“You're right,” you nod. “He needs time to discover his own truth. Thank you, Cas.”

“I am glad I can help,” Castiel smiles shyly. “Now as for sparring. Are you sure you still want to or are you calm currently?”

“You know what?” you smirk. “Let's still do it. I could use the practice.”

“Do you wish me to go easy on you?” Castiel asks.

“Not at all,” you shake your head.

Later when you're looking up at him from the flat of your back, the wind knocked out of you, you realise maybe it wasn't the best idea to challenge a celestial being...

  


**

  


“Oh Fergus!” Rowena says dramatically, half falling over as she comes into the throne room.

She looks beaten and bloodied and her hair is stuck out at odd angles. Crowley can't be sure but she seems to be making a great display of wincing with every step.

“Mother?” he says disinterestedly. “Rough date?”

“He did this to me!” Rowena howls, falling to her knees in a melodramatic way.

“Mother I'd rather not play the pronoun game,” Crowley sighs. “Who is 'he'?”

“Dean Winchester,” Rowena says shrilly. “He said it was revenge against you for what you did to his precious little Brit plaything.”

“How many times do I have to say her name is Tabitha?!” Crowley roars. “And Dean Winchester should know his place by now. She's rejected him enough times.”

“He said you will never have her,” Rowena continues, touching her split lip. “That's she is his and he'll keep her away from you.”

That stoked a fire that burned harder than anything Crowley had felt. His mother might be lying and it was highly likely but on the off chance she wasn't....

_That woman is mine. She gave herself to me. She belongs to no one else._

“My son,” Rowena sobs. “I implore you. Get off your throne for once and _do_ something about him. He's no friend to you.”

_Either she's a very good actress or this actually did happen....do I take that risk?_

“Don't let him take your throne and your wee lass too,” Rowena continues.

“I will speak with him,” Crowley says, making up his mind. “I have a bone to pick with him anyway. A jawbone to be precise. Wait here.”

With that he stood up and briefly appeared in the bunker, seeking you out. He wanted to be absolutely sure you were turning away from him before he did something he might regret.

He found you in the gym, training with Castiel of all beings. He watched you from the shadow of the doorway, sweat plastering your body as you honed your skills and the angel was not giving you an easy ride.

Crowley almost came in when he saw you being thrown to the floor, Castiel's knee on your chest but you just burst out laughing.

_You have the sweetest laugh, my kitten._

When Castiel picked you up off the ground however and you hugged him, the raging inferno in Crowley grew ever larger. His jealously was becoming too much to contain and he needed to direct it at a target.

_Dean. I'm coming for you, Dean. You've spent all my minimal good will._

  


**

  
  
  
“Squirrel,” Crowley growls at Dean who's sat in some dive bar, as per usual.

“Boris. Where's Natasha?” Dean quips back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Would it make a difference?” Crowley asks.

“Not really,” Dean shrugs. “So are we gonna do this because whatever Rowena said, that's not how it went down.”

“So she lied,” Crowley sighs.

And just like that the flames within him extinguished. He couldn't be angry at Dean. It just wasn't....justified. Not saying the Winchester wasn't a royal pain in his arse most of the time and he most definitely was _not_ over you but he couldn't reason a good excuse to start a fight.

“Must be a family thing,” Dean says, knocking another gulp of beer back.

“You know you're becoming quite predictable Dean,” Crowley says, sitting down on the barstool next to him. “Have an emotional blow out, drink your problems away...”

“I'm not saying it's healthy,” Dean agrees. “But it helps. It helps with all this crap. The Mark.”

“Mother says the Mark can be removed. It boils down to a curse after all but she doesn't know how to remove it,” Crowley muses out loud.

He feels an almost odd sense of kinship with the hunter. There's much of the same spark of destructiveness in Dean as there was in himself. Dean was just the rawer version of it. He couldn't help but divulge the particular information about the Mark and a part of him thought that maybe if he helped get rid of it, Dean would be less inclined to go nuclear and by extension, make your life a lot safer.

_I may not be in your good graces, my darling, but I can do my level best to make sure you're safe in some respects._

“I'm good,” Dean says but Crowley knows better.

“Now who's lying?” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Ah, Dean....Dean Dean Dean.....my mother thinks I've gone soft.”

Crowley had no idea why he was spilling his inner most feelings to his love rival but it was lightening his burden a little. It wasn't like he could confide in any one else particularly right now.

“You are,” Dean says bluntly. “Maybe, I don't know, but the old Crowley, he would have come in here with hellhounds and demons, and he would have blown the roof off the joint. Now? You didn't want to fight. You wanted to talk and maybe I've changed too. Here I am playing Dr. Phil to the King of Hell. Never saw that coming.”

“Maybe we're getting old,” Crowley sighs.

“So why are you letting Rowena run the show here?” Dean asks curiously.

“We're.....blood. Family,” Crowley mumbles.

“That's not the same thing. A wise man once told me, "family don't end in blood," but it doesn't start there, either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there through the good, bad . . . all of it. They got your back . . . even when it hurts. That's family. That sound like your mother?” Dean prompts.

“Not in the slightest,” Crowley admits. “You know squirrel, maybe you should give up hunting and become a therapist for wayward demons.”

“Well I would like one of those fancy chairs,” Dean laughs.

  


**

  


When Crowley reappeared in Hell, he had a singular purpose. His mother would not control him any longer.

“We're done,” he snarls at Rowena who looks stricken. “Pack your stuff and get out.”

“You're not serious?” Rowena gasps.

“Deadly,” Crowley growls.

“I'm your mother! I brought you into this world! You can't!” she begins to protest.

“I'M BLOODY CROWLEY!” he roars, keen to frighten her away, keen to get her out of his life. “I'm the King of Hell and I can do whatever I please!”

“I will watch as everything you have I will burn,” Rowena spits.

“Five minutes,” Crowley hisses. “Get out.”

Seeing her stalk out of the throne room, a weight lifted off of his chest. She was never a mother to him, not really. She was just a convenient way for him to enter the world. She never deserved his love.

_And I don't deserve yours, kitten but I'll damn well try and get it back._

  


_**_

  


After sparring with Castiel, you left for your room. Dean had gone to a bar, presumably to drink away the problems he was too embarrassed to talk about. Sam had ended up on a date somehow and you sincerely wished him the best of luck with that one. Romance and the hunter life didn't exactly mix well.

You ended up in the records unit, just out of sheer curiousity and boredom. You'd already sourced everything the library had to offer you and you were wondering whether any of the American Men of Letters had come across the Mark before.

An hour later, you almost barricaded yourself into a paper fortress, files stacked high around you as you read the records from 1952. It was not particularly thrilling to say the least.

You suddenly prickled as you felt the sensation of being watched sweep over your body. You snapped your head towards where you sensed it was coming from but nothing was there.

“Hello?” you call, a little apprehensive as you hand curls around the small flick knife you keep on your person at all times.

You're suddenly shoved down and the files burst around you, sending notes scattering to the corners of the room. A heavy weight presses over you and you steady your hand before thrusting up the knife quickly, blinded by the many papers still whirling around you.

“That's quite a greeting, pet,” Crowley purrs. “I love it when you get rough.”

He's holding your wrist, keeping the blade away from his throat and he presses his lips to your pulse point, raking his teeth slightly.

“Go away,” you hiss. “I thought I'd made myself clear.”

“That's not any way to speak to your king,” Crowley tuts in a playful way before his other hand skips over where the crown brand lies on your skin. “You gave yourself to me. That doesn't have an expiration date, darling.”

You try to wriggle out from under him but his body is too heavy for you to do that and he's pinning you down with one firm hand on your thigh. You're still so angry at him and angry that he'd try to come back and just carry on as normal that you lash out. Your free hand balls into a fist and you punch him across the face.

“I said go away!” you snarl.

“Never!” Crowley growls, the sound positively primal. “Fight against me all you like but you're _mine_.”

He pushes your legs apart with frightening ease before settling his body in between them. You're caught between being afraid of him and the fact your body is starting to respond.

“And look at how you treat me,” you snap back, continuing to struggle. “Lies and subterfuge. I'd rather be alone than have that. I'm not some meek little girl that will put up with that kind of deceit. Get out of my life.”

He suddenly drops onto his forearms which pin your shoulders to the floor. His face is now inches above yours and you get the overwhelming urge to headbutt him.

“Do that and see what happens,” Crowley says dangerously. “You want to be angry with me? Fine. You want to physically attack me? Fine also, but I will have you again and you will enjoy it. You will scream my name so loud it will echo in this room.”

Shit. Everything below your navel jerked at his words and you felt that dull throb start between your legs.

 _This_ is the Crowley that had been missing for a while. Since his mother had come back into his life he was withdrawn, less assured, not as sexually overt and even bordering on submissive, letting you take the lead a lot. That was not the Crowley you'd come to love. The Crowley you loved was right above you, passion burning in his eyes, confident...dominant...claiming.

“And you're already starting to enjoy it, aren't you kitten?” Crowley chuckles, canting his hips slightly so his groin brushes against you and you have to bite your lip to stifle the noise you want to make. “Or are you still going to keep up this ridiculous pretence?”

“I don't know, depends if your mother is waiting somewhere in the doorway,” you say viciously.

Just because you _were_ enjoying this didn't mean you'd forgiven him.

“My mother's been banished,” Crowley hums before he rips your top straight off your body. “Don't give a toss where she is.”

Banished? Had Crowley finally figured out she was manipulating him all this time? Was this another trick?

“Quiet your thoughts,” Crowley orders. “Yes she's gone. She thought she could rule Hell through me, well....she was sorely mistaken. You see...I'm Crowley and I'm King and the King does whatever he wants...like this.”

In another swift motion, your skirt was torn off, leaving you in just your underwear. You shivered slightly with the cold and the anticipation but it was quickly soothed by Crowley's warm hands running up the length of your torso.

“Oh I have missed this,” Crowley purrs. “How soft you are, how hard you fight against your own urges...come back to me, pet.”

You really shouldn't. You _really_ really shouldn't. Crowley was not trustworthy. Crowley had deceived you, threatened your friends, broken your trust on more than one occasion. You shouldn't give in.

Before you realise what's happening, Crowley grabs both of your wrists and holds them over your head as your knife goes clattering to some unseen corner. His face is mere centimetres above yours, so close you can feel the heat from his skin.

“Make your choice, Tabitha,” Crowley husks. “Deny me or welcome me but you only have a minute before I make your choice for you.”

Your brain went into overdrive thinking of all the possible outcomes. It was maddening.

“Or do you prefer Heavenly fodder now?” Crowley challenges.

“You were spying on me and Cas?” you question.

“I will always be looking out for you, pet,” Crowley mumbles against your neck. “And let me just say that angel wouldn't know what to do with you but I certainly do. I know what you enjoy, those secret desires that you pleasure yourself at the thought of, where to touch you to make you come undone. Clock's ticking, kitten.”

“I can't keep doing this, Crowley,” you plead, seconds away from crumbling under the sheer weight of your own lust. “You keep hurting me. It's not a healthy relationship.”

“Darling, this is the first real relationship I've had in centuries,” Crowley whispers into your ear, slowing grinding against you. “And the most intensely I have ever felt love. I'm....rusty on how to do things properly and many societal norms have changed since I last fell for a woman. Forgive me.”

The second his lips hit that sweet spot in between your neck and shoulder you know you're gone. You end up arching into his touch and a small hitched breath escapes your mouth.

“That's it, kitten. Purr for me,” he murmurs against your throat.

“No,” you say, trying to fight back against his obvious seduction, some small semblance of self control still left.

You twist your hands out of his grip and try to push him off but he just captures your wrists again and leans his full body weight forward, keeping them trapped there.

“Oh is this the game you want to play?” Crowley chuckles. “You want me to dominate you? Break you? Show you that no matter what your mouth says, your body will always be ready for me? You just love this, don't you darling? You love it when I claim you.”

You can't even think at this point. The need in your core is unbearable. You need _him_.

Crowley lifts up suddenly off you and gives you a small smirk and a raised eyebrow, “Or am I wrong? Shall I just take my leave?”

“You're such a bastard,” you hiss.

“Am I now?” he grins. “And whatever will you do about that? Hit me some more? Go on then, I may even enjoy it.”

You can't win. He has you completely where he wants you and he knows it.

You launch yourself forward, attacking him with everything you've got. You know it won't hurt him anyway. You're very surprised when you end up drawing some blood where you've caught him in the mouth.

“Oh very good, pet,” he coos, swiping his tongue over his lips to collect the claret liquid. “Now let me show you precisely who's in charge.”

He grips your hair by the root, pulling you to him in a fiercesome kiss. You can taste the copper tang still swirling on his tongue.

This is like nothing you've ever experienced with him before. He's hungry for you, you can sense that. You can _feel_ that. He's almost devouring you with his passion.

With practised ease, he grasps your thighs, jerking you forward so you end up falling down onto the pile of papers again. Within two seconds he's on you, mouth and hands exploring every inch. It's almost like he's been starved of your body.

When his fingers trace a line down the centre of your underwear, you reflexively jerk, sending another pile of records falling on top of you.

“Such a sinful girl,” Crowley growls as he presses harder with his fingers, earning a small moan from you. “Wanton with the King of Hell on top of the Men of Letter's archives. Whatever shall I do with you? I know....”

Click!

You feel a rush of coldness as the last vestiges of your clothing disappear. Crowley immediately lavishes attention on the brand on your hip, kissing languidly.

“Mine,” he growls before his own clothes disappear with a snap of his fingers.

As he leans over you, you feel the tip of his cock gliding against your entrance and you realise how aroused you've become.

_How does he manage to do that when I'm so angry with him?_

“Because I'm Crowley,” he proclaims, answering your unspoken question. “Now you're doing far too much thinking for my liking...”

In one fluid motion, he buries himself in you with an expert roll of his hips. That rends a loud groan from your mouth, one that he quickly swallows with a searing kiss. He doesn't move however, keeping himself perfectly still.

_Move!_

“Tell me what you want, kitten,” he smirks. “Use your words.”

_Oh well, my resolve has already crumbled. May as well enjoy it instead of fighting it._

“Take me,” you pant, almost in a whimper.

“Am I worthy enough to claim you as my queen again?” he says, a hint of seriousness in his face.

_If you'll always be the King I adore._

“Yes, Crowley, please,” you urge.

He needs no further permission and starts rutting into you hard, files crumpling beneath his fists as he leverages them on the floor. You automatically wrap your legs around him, inviting him deeper, keeping him close.

“You are perfection,” he rasps, canting particularly deep against you. “I will never let you go.”

The pages of the archives stick to your skin as he drives himself further and further. Some small part of you should be mortified that you're destroying historical records like this but a huge part of you finds it intensely arousing.

“Call for me, kitten,” Crowley husks. “Let me hear my name from those delectable lips.”

He angles you in such a way that when he bucks against you, he grinds against your sweet spot.

“Crowley!” you gasp, your body shuddering with the sensation.

“I have missed you so,” he purrs. “My Tabitha.”

You clutch onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as his rhythm and pace never falter. Who knew demons had such stamina?

He pulls up slightly into a kneeling position but never breaking the beat before he begins tracing small circles on your clit. You're so intensely worked up from your anger and lust that that delicious edge approaches faster than you realise.

“Come undone for me,” Crowley orders, exuding authority. “Now.”

Who were you to argue with that?

You arch heavily, your orgasm racking your body as you utter his name like a prayer. Moments later you hear a feral growl and Crowley pushes as deep as he can go, finding his own release.

He peppers tiny kisses across your face as you come down from your high, ending with a long and languid one on your mouth.

“Forgive me,” he whispers.

“As long as you promise she will never manipulate you again,” you pant.

“I swear it to you,” Crowley proclaims. “I swear it on my throne.”

That was a pretty big statement to make. Crowley _loved_ power, he loved his kingship.

“I forgive you,” you nod and he presses his forehead to yours.

“Thank you, Tabitha. Truly,” he murmurs.

Crowley never thanks people so you at least know he's being serious about it. You look up at him and stroke his bristled cheek, gazing into those stoic brown eyes. There's a small genuine smile that plays across his lips and you can't help but reciprocate.

You cast a glance down and see that the pages of the archives have transferred ink all over your body.

“I look like I've been in a coal mine,” you joke.

“I think it's rather wonderful,” Crowley chuckles. “Like an art piece.”

The sound of the bunker door slamming makes you freeze. Neither brother was supposed to be home this early.

“Shit,” you squeak in terror.

This was the most compromising position they could catch you in.

The King of Hell moved with a grace and speed you didn't think was possible. In one motion, he'd pulled out of you, redressed you both and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Feign illness, darling,” he hushes. “I'm just a text away when you need me.”

With that he was gone, leaving you in a pile of mussed up records with wild sex hair and a flushed face.

“Tabs?” Dean calls. “You home?”

You take Crowley's advice and lay back in the papers, still panting heavily from your exertion. You wondered just how much Dean would buy the illness card when you were sure the room smelled like sex.

“Tabs?” Dean says again and you can hear him wandering around.

Your phone starts buzzing in your newly acquired jeans and Dean's personal ringtone chirrups to life. It takes him all of thirty seconds before he pokes his head around the Archive room door.

“Crap!” he exclaims, his eyes going wide. “Princess?! Tabs?! Can you hear me?!”

He rushes forward, picking your head up and placing it in his lap whilst he stares at you in panic, wondering what's wrong.

“Tabs, talk to me. Tell me you're ok or I'm getting Cas here,” he says quickly.

“Just a dizzy spell,” you mumble. “Been burning myself out. I'll be fine.”

“The hell you will,” Dean frowns. “Why are you pushing yourself so goddamn hard, huh?”

“I was just trying to look for something to help you,” you admit, which was true after all.

Dean's face softens and he almost looks guilty, “Tabs, please don't do this on my account. It freaked me out seeing you like this. I don't wanna be the cause.”

“You're my friend, Dean,” you smile faintly. “Friends do that kind of stuff for each other. You'd be the same and don't try to tell me anything different.”

“You got me, sweetheart,” Dean grins. “Now let's get you to bed. You need some rest.”

He scoops you up in his arms and carries you back to your room before placing you underneath your duvet.

“Sleep tight, princess. I'll be in my room if you need me,” he says before flicking the lightswitch and leaving.

You feel incredibly shameful that you had to resort to such a thing to keep your secret. You didn't like playing off of Dean's good will but on the other hand if he'd caught you with Crowley....well you're not sure if you'd be alive right now.

_That was a very close one._

  


**

  


Down in the throne room, Crowley smirked. He could still smell your scent, almost feel the sensation of your soft skin under his touch....oh how he'd missed taking you that way.

He never realised how much his mother had affected him until his more dominant desires had sparked back to life once she'd gone. She was like a proverbial wet towel to the face.

“Your majesty please!” a begging crossroads demon who'd missed his annual quota said.

“I run a tight ship here,” he purred, idly swirling his beloved Craig in a tumbler. “And let's just say you're not good for our soul business projection. I can't have dead weight in my kingdom.”

With one snap of his fingers, the demon evaporated into dust, drawing a small gasp from his audience.

“Let that be an example to you all,” he growled. “On with your work.”

The scattering of his minions as they all disappeared to do their jobs pleased him greatly.

_Oh yes, the King is back._

  


  


 


	23. Rising Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'll find a cure for the Mark at any cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First up, big apologies for getting this out so late.  
> I kind of lost my drive for writing lately so it's been a real struggle to get it back. I've kind of been sitting staring at 1,000 words of this for what feels like days now. Finally got some motivation again.  
> No warnings for this chapter.  
> Email: theliveshipparagon@gmail.com  
> Tumblr: theliveshipparagon
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (I really suck at proofreading)

You threw yourself into your research in the weeks that followed, renewed by your sense of purpose.

You still felt guilty for lying to Dean when he found you after your make up session with Crowley so you'd been tirelessly working on a solution to freeing him from the Mark. Endless days passed where you scoured records, actively tortured demons for information, sought out experts in Judeo-Christian studies but...nothing.

For the most part, the brothers found it worrying, trying to discourage you from your one woman crusade but you ignored them. Gradually they found their own vices to get lost in. Dean started drinking even more heavily and Sam buried himself in his own investigation. You could see the cracks of your friendship and their brotherhood start forming, driving a wedge of distance into your daily lives.

You kept seeing Crowley as often as you could and he upheld his promise to keep his mother away, even taking you down to Hell on a few occasions to prove his point. Gradually you grew closer again, the bond of trust reforming and growing.

You'd just finished torturing a demon that'd been hanging around since the era of Ancient Egypt but he'd given you absolutely nada to go on.

“Kitten, you're thinning out my ranks,” a familiar gravelly voice sounds out behind you.

“He wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know,” you shrug, cleaning off your knife.

“He can't tell you what he doesn't know, pet,” Crowley chuckles. “I doubt any demon alive knows about the Mark otherwise I would have found out by now and used it as leverage.”

You guess that kind of rang true. Crowley liked having a strategic advantage over his enemies.

“It's pissing me off,” you huff, kicking the demon tied to the chair over where it slumps with a horrible thud onto the ground. “There has to be _some_ way to get rid of it.”

“Tabitha, there's only one person who's offered a solution thus far and you know it,” Crowley murmurs, placing a hand on your shoulder to turn you to him.

You know exactly who he means....Rowena.

“She can go swivel,” you hiss, folding your arms defensively.

“She can go do far worse than that,” Crowley smirks and you can't help but let out a derisive snort. “Come on, darling, you should get back home and leave me some minions to rule over.”

“I don't want to go back,” you say softly, looking at the Cortina. “I can't stand going back empty handed and having to look Dean in the eye as he gets worse again.”

“Kitten,” Crowley whispers, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. “You're not a failure. You're trying to find a solution to a curse as old as Eden. Think anyone's succeeded so far?”

“No,” you mumble into his chest. “Not the point though.”

Crowley lifts your chin up with one crooked finger, “Pessimism and self loathing is not attractive, pet. You're better than that. Go home, get some rest and come at it from a fresh angle in the morning. This is doing you no good.”

“Fine,” you grumble before you reach up and pull him down to kiss you. “Just cheering myself up.”

Crowley audibly purrs, “You can cheer yourself up any time you like.”

“Tell me you love me,” you state, trying hard not to sink into that loop of despair you always felt when you uncovered nothing.

“My my,” Crowley chuckles. “Aren't we becoming demanding? I think being my Queen has gone to your head somewhat.”

“Crowley, please,” you sigh and he must have heard the defeat in your tone because his face instantly softens.

“I love you my darling, truly,” he says proudly, stroking your cheek before giving you a gentle kiss. “Stop being so harsh on yourself or I'll have to be harsh on you....although my way is rather more fun.”

You can't help but smile at that and you see that glimmer in Crowley's eyes that he's made you happier.

“Now get on with yourself before I take you in the back of your car,” he says, smacking your arse playfully. “I know how particular you are about your upholstery.”

“Point made,” you nod. “I'm going.”

“Good girl,” he smiles, kissing your temple. “Tomorrow I shall visit you and we'll go somewhere nice to take your mind off this whole thing. I was thinking Salzburg. Fantastic mountain views.”

“Sounds nice,” you laugh. “I probably need the distraction. See you tomorrow...my king.”

You visibly see the shiver of lust that runs through him and you get in the Cortina sharpish, trying to stifle your giggle as you start driving back to Lebanon. You catch a glimpse of him in the rear view mirror, eyes wild with passion and he wags a finger at you before disappearing into the ether.

  


**

  


When you got back to the bunker, you immediately noticed something was off.

You could hear the usual sounds of the boys and seemingly Castiel from somewhere in the building but there was a lighter tone, a feminine tone that was wending its way up to your ears. A feminine tone with a Scottish accent.

Immediately everything inside you clenches. That was definitely Rowena but what was she doing here and why had the brothers thought it was a good idea to show her into the bunker of all places?!

Sam appears from another room and spots you hovering on the wrought iron balcony.

“Are you ok?” he asks, seeing your stricken face.

“What is _she_ doing here?” you hiss, making no attempt to keep the contempt out of your voice.

“Uh...yeah,” Sam shifts nervously. “We were gonna tell you.”

“Tell me what, Sam?” you spit, a little harsher than you meant to and Sam winces.

“Rowena says she can remove the Mark so we're giving it a shot,” Sam tries to explain.

“I am not staying here if she's around,” you shake your head furiously. “She tried to kill me.”

“Yeah well so did Crowley in the beginning,” Sam points out.

_Yes but I've ended up sleeping with Crowley. Can't say I'm going to do that with Rowena._

“Not to the point where my insides were being grinded up,” you say.

Sam stutters for a second, “I didn't know that. Dean just said you got hexed and there was blood. Crap. Ok, maybe you should just hang back whilst we do this.”

“She could be manipulating you,” you implore him. “Don't trust a bloody word she says.”

“We have to try, Tabitha,” Sam sighs. “Unless you've got something?”

You keep silent and look away, shame burning on your face. You had absolutely nothing to show for your weeks of hard work.

“Thought so,” Sam says softly. “Just...just let us try?”

“I'll stay in a motel or something,” you say.

“Tabitha-” Sam says with his trademark worried frown on his face.

You know he was about to ask you to stay, to help even but you just can't. The memory of her gloating face is still too real for you.

“Poppet!” a voice shrieks from the doorway and your flight response almost kicks in as you turn to see the redheaded witch lingering with Dean. “You're looking well.”

“Anything looks better than the state you tried to leave me in,” you fire back.

“Such a fiesty one,” Rowena chuckles, slapping Dean on the arm. “Reminds me of myself at a young age.”

“We were gonna tell you,” Dean says apologetically.

“Going somewhere dearie?” Rowena notes, looking at the fact you're almost out of the bunker door.

“Just a case,” you mutter.

“Oh wonderful,” she grins, the smile not fully reaching her eyes. “For a second I thought you still held a grudge.”

Anger boils inside you as you realise the game she's playing. She's trying to make you feel weak, inferior. If you leave now it'll just play into her hands.

“Actually, you know what?” you say, turning back around and walking down the stairs. “I'll ring Jodie, she can handle this one.”

“Sure?” Sam asks, trying to signal to you with his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” you say firmly. “Besides, I want to see what showstopping magic she has to get rid of a curse from the dawn of time.”

Annoyance flashes across Rowena's doll like face but it's replaced in an instant by an unsettling smile. Clearly she didn't like you calling her abilities into question.

“I'm sure you'll be suitably impressed,” she says cryptically.

“Dean, a word?” Sam motions to his brother and they both walk out into the corridor, leaving you and Rowena alone.

“How's Fergus?” she says nonchalantly.

Wow...it didn't even take two seconds before she was trying to twist the knife in, so to speak.

“Fine,” you answer tersely.

“Is that how it is?” she grimaces. “Let me tell you something you English wench...you make one protest about me being here to those boys, just one and I'll sing like a canary. I'll tell them everything you and my son have been up to. I'm sure that will go down like a lead balloon.”

“They wouldn't believe you,” you snarl. “They've been told about it a few times now and they never think it's true.”

“Perhaps if I tell them to look for the mark on your hip they might,” Rowena smiles cruelly.

Your face drains of colour. She knew. She knew and that mean she would win this little stalemate. You were well and truly outmatched.

“Touched a wee nerve there I see,” she grins, showing her needle like teeth. “I'm glad we could come to an understanding little lass.”

You bite your tongue, afraid to say anything further. You watch her in abject silence as the brothers re-enter and Dean quickly slaps some anti-magic cuffs on her from nowhere.

“What in the bloody hell is this?!” she shrieks, fighting against the metal. “We had an understanding!”

“Yeah we did,” Dean shrugs. “Didn't say we'd let you walk around freely after using Tabs as a human voodoo doll.”

She glares at you as if somehow this turn of events is your fault. You can't deny you're insanely pleased that Dean and Sam seem to be taking your discomfort on board. That's probably what they were discussing when they stepped out.

“Look, let's have a cup of tea and negotiate,” Rowena says, holding out her hands as if she expects the boys to have a sudden change of heart.

“Don't think so,” Sam shakes his head. “Do the spell.”

“I can't work in these conditions,” she audibly groans before turning to you. “You'll let me out, won't you poppet?”

There's a venom to her voice that only you are privy to. The threat is quite clear. Let her out or she'll tell the Winchesters about Crowley.

“Just do it,” you sigh, rubbing your temple. “Quicker she can do the spell, the quicker she can go. I'm gonna grab a change of clothes.”

You hurry past Sam and Dean who look perplexed but don't say anything about it. In fact, all they do is argue amongst themselves about the benefits and cons of releasing Rowena.

With a heavy thud, you push the door closed of your bedroom and immediately text Crowley.  
  


**Tabitha: Need you. Danger. Urgent.  
**  


Within twenty seconds of you sending the message, he appears before you, concern furrowing his brow as he takes in your panicked expression.

“Kitten, tell me what's going on,” he orders in a hushed tone, well aware to keep his volume down in case anyone is passing your room.

“Your mother,” you squeak out. “Sam and Dean have drafted her in to help remove the Mark but she's threatening to expose us if I try and talk them out of it.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow, “Those morons wouldn't believe it if she told them. If even the Scribe of God can't convince dumb little Dean of what we have, my mother certainly won't.”

“She said she'll tell them about the mark you gave me,” you explain and his eyes widen for the briefest second, so uncharacteristic of his usual demeanour.

“Well....that changes things,” he mutters before closing the distance between you and pressing his palm against your hip. “Do you trust me, Tabitha?”

“Yes,” you nod and he smiles.

“I'm glad I have re-earned that honour,” he chuckles. “Then trust that if it should come to my mother's accusations that it'll be alright. Can you do that for me, kitten?”

“Uh...” you hesitate. “What do you mean?”

“Just trust me,” he murmurs softly, tracing the line of your jaw with his hand before pulling you into a gentle kiss. “Let her play her silly game for now. She holds no power over you. Remember, darling, you're stronger than you think.”

“But what if-” you start and he silences you with the pad of his thumb swiping over your lips.

“If chaos occurs and the cat is well and truly out of the bag by some unfortunate bad luck, call me. I'll do everything I can to protect you. You know I will, pet.”

“Alright,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Once more into the breach...”

“There's my queen,” Crowley smiles. “Ta ta for now. Remember...trust me.”

With that he disappears.

You almost walk back out without changing which would've blown your lousy excuse wide open so you quickly throw on some jeans and a t-shirt before traipsing out to the war room. Not looking where you were going, you collide with Castiel who was hovering in the corridor.

“Sorry!” you say hastily.

“It is my fault,” the angel nods his head slightly. “I was...lost in my own thoughts.”

“You don't like this either huh?” you surmise.

“Not one bit,” Castiel says grimly. “Trusting Rowena is dangerous and a huge mistake.”

“You and I both agree on that,” you sigh. “Come on, we'd best oversee things and make sure they don't mess it up too badly.”

You lead Castiel in, pulling him by the crook of his arm. He's oddly stiff to manoeuvre but you chalk it up to his awkward social skills.

When you enter the area Sam has set up for the spell, Rowena's eyes glint for a second before she turns back to the Book of the Damned, muttering incomprehensible words as her slim finger skims over the ancient words.

“Any luck?” you ask Sam who looks practically defeated already.

“We need the apple. _The_ apple....and the Golden Calf. She's just translating the last ingredient,” Sam mutters.

“So not much then,” you nudge him and he begrudgingly gives a small smile.

“These are difficult items to obtain,” Castiel murmurs.

“This one is even more difficult,” Rowena pronounces, giving a dramatic turn. “Nigh on impossible in fact. The spell requires me to sacrifice something I love.”

Your stomach feels like it drops out of your body. Surely she couldn't mean...Crowley? Were you really going to have to choose between your lover or your friend?

“So get on with it,” Dean spits.

“Bring me something I love and I'll kill it gladly,” Rowena rolls her eyes. “I want my freedom far too much to sit here postulating about this rubbish.”

“Crowley's fair game, right?” Dean offers.

“Would happily kill him. Not love dear,” Rowena snorts and you feel inexplicably angry.

Here was the woman who almost murdered you so you wouldn't tempt her son away and she was happy to say she'd kill him? It almost invalidated everything you went through.

_I feel sorry for Crowley having a mother like you._

“Everybody loves something,” Castiel grunts, walking over to Rowena and placing two fingers on her forehead. “Oskar...”

“You saw Oskar?” she breathes, her face softening in genuine emotion.

“Who's that?” Sam asks.

“Peasant boy, helped me out...some 300 years ago,” she says, almost fondly.

“Well, let's hop to it,” Dean says, readying himself to go.

“No Dean,” Castiel says firmly. “Tabitha and I will procure the ingredients. You keep watch on Rowena.”

“Sure you'll be ok, Tabs?” Dean asks.

“Peachy,” you nod. “Who doesn't love a good impossible scavenger hunt right?”

“Alright, well...keep safe,” Dean says in a strangely strangled voice.

You don't make any comment on it but you nod and take Castiel's arm as he blinks out of existence, a rush of feathers sounding in your ears as you appear at a crossroads. Instantly you know what Castiel's plan is.

“Really?” you ask the angel. “You couldn't just have me call him and talk in my room?”

“I thought it best that I get you away from Rowena,” Castiel says. “Your last encounter with her almost cost you your life. Should I have not done so?”

“No,” you sigh. “It's fine...probably would've said something stupid anyway. She has a habit of getting under my skin and bringing out the worst in me.”

“She is rather irksome yes,” Castiel nods bluntly. “Call Crowley please.”

You dial Crowley's number and you hear the crunch of gravel behind you as those distinctive footsteps approach.

“You rang?” he says before spotting Castiel. “Feathers...could you not have called me yourself?”

“I don't have you in my contacts,” Castiel answers monotonously.

“I'm offended,” Crowley pouts. “However will I get my invite to your Heavenly frat parties?”

“Crowley this is serious,” Castiel huffs. “I need ingredients for your mother to complete her spell. I am sure Tabitha has told you what it does.”

“Removes that pesky Mark, yes I'm aware,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Beg.”

“Excuse me?” the angel blinks in confusion.

“I don't feel like running around at her beck and call so....beg me to help you.”

“Crowley,” you say in warning.

“No no no, darling, let the angel speak,” Crowley smirks. “Come on, Castiel.”

“Crowley-” Castiel starts.

“Ah ah ah, King,” Crowley corrects him.

“King....” Castiel almost snarls. “If you would be so kind as to retrieve the items on this list.”

He produces a roll of paper from his trench coat and passes it to the King of Hell who looks over it with an amused expression.

“Forbidden fruit, hmm,” he muses to himself, pacing in the gravel. “For starters, the fruit is a quince, not an apple. Clearly you need to go back to bible studies. Golden calf...no issues on that one and...something that Rowena loves.”

“I thought it would've been you but-” Castiel says but he's interrupted by a tired hand of Crowley's coming up in a stop motion.

“Spare me, Feathers,” Crowley sighs. “Been down that particular road before. I'm in.”

Before he leaves, he wraps you in his arms and gives you a long, hard possessive kiss, right in front of the angel who gets very uncomfortable. When you hear the small 'ahem' you break away.

“Oh do be quiet, Castiel,” Crowley chuckles. “It's just for good luck. See you soon, darling.”

  


**  
  
  
When Cas eventually drops you back at the bunker, you see Sam and Dean looking glassy eyed. It's almost as if they're depressed from the way they're acting.

“What's going on?” you ask.

“I met with Death,” Dean answers blankly. “Says he can't do jack about the Mark. I was hoping I'd have more options but...this is just my last shot and even then it probably won't work. Death offered to seal me away so I can't hurt anyone.”

“You can't honestly be thinking of taking him up on that?!” you cry out.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Tabs?” Dean groans, burying his face in his hands. “Become a soulless killing machine? Do you want me to go back to how I was? Look at what I did! Look at what I did to _you_. I'm better off away from everyone.”

To say you're furious right now is an understatement, “I've spent the past few weeks tirelessly searching for a cure for you, Dean Winchester! I've not slept properly, I've not eaten properly, all to help you and you're just going to piss all that hard work down the drain because you can't hang on for just a little longer?!”

“Tabitha-” Sam tries to cut in but you shush him with a violent finger wag.

“I can't hurt anyone again,” Dean whispers. “I just can't. Least of all you, sweetheart. I didn't ask you to wear yourself out for me. I'm not worth it.”

“As lovely as your eternal soap opera is, I would still like my freedom boys,” Rowena cuts in, jangling her chains.

“Oh shut up!” you yell at her. “Nobody cares about your bloody needs!”

The second the words leave your mouth, you instantly regret them. You were so wound up with Dean's self loathing episode you forgot you were supposed to keep her on side.

“Just like nobody cares about what you do with my son, hmm?” she coos in a dangerously low voice.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam asks, confused.

“Little miss innocent over here,” Rowena points to you, her hands clanking with the movement. “You may think working with me is bad but at least you know where you stand. That one, she's a devious little snake.”

“Alright, I'm trying really hard not to gank you right now,” Dean growls and he grabs the table, tightening his grip to stop himself from launching at her. “So explain yourself, _now_.”

“She's been my son's lover for a long time now,” Rowena reveals, a large beaming grin on her face.

You just look impassive, raising an eyebrow like it was the silliest thing you'd ever heard.

“Yeah...gonna have to say that's crap,” Sam shakes his head. “Tabitha was about ready to kill Crowley a few weeks ago.”

“He's declared her as queen to all of Hell,” Rowena presses, a fire blossoming in her eyes. “Even marked her. Go on, ask her about the mark on her hip.”

“What?” Sam laughs and turns to you.

“Hell if I know,” you shrug.

“Show us,” comes the gruff bark from Dean and you're disappointed to see a spark of jealously flaring on his face.

You'd truly hoped Dean had got over his crush on you but it didn't appear to be the case. That made things a whole lot more awkward.

You take a deep breath, before slightly unbuttoning your jeans. You didn't have much of a choice. Either Crowley was true to his word and something would happen to prevent them finding out about your relationship or all hell would break loose the second Dean saw the crown. Steeling yourself, you pull your jeans and underwear down slightly, exposing the skin, watching Dean's expression the entire time.

His eyes narrow to peer at you for a second before they widen and then settle into a flash of annoyance before he turns to Rowena.

“Yeah...I doubt Crowley is a master tattoo artist. Nice try,” he says sarcastically.

Tattoo artist?

You look down and see where the Crown mark would be but all that's in its place is a small tattoo of the Guns N' Roses logo. Crowley sure did have a sense of humour....

“What?” Rowena stutters.

“Good choice sweetheart,” Dean nods to you. “Never took you for the ink type beyond the usual wards.”

“What can I say, I'm a woman of mystery and taste,” you smirk before redressing yourself and then looking to Rowena who seemed dumbfounded. “So you were saying?”

“I....you've won this round,” she snarls, whirling back round to look at the book some more. “But the war is not over, little lass.”

“Come on,” Sam says, taking your arm and pulling you out of the room back into the war room along with Dean.

Dean immediately starts pulling his jacket on and making for the door again.

“Where are you going?” you demand.

“To see Death again,” Dean responds over his shoulder. “This is a waste of time, princess. I need to seal myself away.”

Dean legitimately sprints away before you can grab for him, knowing you'd make to stop him. You chase after him, warning Sam to stay in the bunker to keep an eye on Rowena as you hare up the wrought iron stairs, your boots clanging on the metal.

“Dean?!” you shout after him but he disappears through the door faster than you can keep up and you hear the Impala starting.

In your panic, you half dive into the Cortina, revving it up and stamping on the accelerator as you race behind him, your fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Dean was such a suicidal idiot. Both brothers had a really bad case of hero complexes and it was going to drive you insane. You'd lost count of how many times they'd ended up sacrificing themselves and Dean was the worst offender.

You follow him all the way to a restaurant where he gets out of the Impala and hurriedly tries to block the door so you can't join him but you leap out of the car and jam your foot in the gap before he can close it all the way.

“Goddamnit, Tabs! Can you just let me do this one thing?!” he roars in your face but you shove him back unceremoniously and slip into the building.

You'd never seen Death before but he wasn't what you'd expected. A tall, almost impossibly thin man sat at a table, regarding you curiously. It almost seemed like his skin was being stretched over his bones, giving him an almost sallow look.

“My dear,” he nods courteously.

“She wasn't supposed to follow me,” Dean mumbles.

“But she is a tenacious one,” Death nods. “And that presents a bit of a problem....you see, I can't have Miss Hetherington interfering.”

“You know me?” you say in surprise.

“I know all, dear girl,” Death smiles but it's not an unpleasant sight. “I am, after all, the executor of your death day. Perhaps if I explain the situation you may see fit to leave Mr Winchester to his allotted fate. Dean cannot be killed. You have experienced that first hand, I gather. The mark also cannot be removed without unleashing the Darkness on the world and that I simply cannot have.”

“What's the Darkness?” you ask.

“Nothing good, princess,” Dean says sternly. “Which is why I have to do this.”

“No you don't!” you exclaim. “Stop being a bloody martyr for one second of your life! If it bothers you so much, let _me_ take the Mark!”

“That is also a valid option,” Death confirms.

“Aw hell no!” Dean yells. “As if I'm going to let you turn into a Bond villain!”

“Dean enough!” you shout. “You can't solve every problem by throwing yourself off the proverbial cliff! Let me help you!”

“What a shame,” Death sighs. “And here I thought you might actually be useful to him but I can see you're just as stubborn as he is. I'll have to dispose of you if you keep trying to win him over.”

“What?” you blink.

Did Death really just threaten to kill you for trying to save your friend?

“Alright, I'll make this simple,” Death states, standing up and retrieving a large scythe out of thin air. “She is clearly not going to back down so either I kill her, Dean, or you do. I won't help you seal yourself away otherwise.”

Dean's face drains of colour. Surely he won't listen to Death...will he? You can see the battle raging in his head as he weighs his options.

“Time is running short, Dean,” Death prompts, twirling the scythe round in his lithe fingers.

“I'll do it,” Dean whispers, his voice almost breaking.

You can't help yourself. You lose it then and there, the fear of dying getting to you.

“So after all that shit about not wanting to hurt me any more and now you're going to kill me?” you hiss. “Some friend you were. Go on then, fucking do it. I'll hold my arms out wide so you can get an easy blow.”

“Tabs, please,” Dean pleads, tears forming in his eyes. “I don't wanna do this. I really goddamn don't but if I gotta choose between not killing the entire planet or sacrificing you....philosophers would call it a no brainer.”

“And what do you call it?” you spit venomously.

“Unfair,” Dean murmurs. “Cruel even.”

He takes several steps towards you, bundling you in his arms. You try to push away, the feeling of betrayal weighing on you but you just can't fight him. The old you would have done the exact same thing for the Men of Letters.

Dean kisses your forehead before leaning back and you see one tear start tracking down his face.

“Mr Winchester,” Death says impatiently and Dean wipes his cheek with the back of his sleeve before retrieving the scythe and standing in front of you.

So this is how it ends....

You expected to go out during a hunt or at the hands of some big bad. You never expected your friend would be holding a weapon to you. You didn't even get to say goodbye to Sam and Cas, you didn't even get to say goodbye to Crowley....at least you'd left him with a passionate kiss to remember you by. That was something I guess.

You hold your hands away from your body, not trusting yourself to ball them against you in some feeble attempt at defence. Tremors were making their way up your spine and you were doing your best to ignore them, trying to remain stoic and dignified in the face of certain finality.

“I forgive you, Dean,” you say quietly, the words just falling out of your mouth before you close your eyes and wait for the end.

There's a small hitched breath and you feel the rush of air swoop towards you and then....well you expected some kind of pain but nothing was registering. After a second you open one eye experimentally, expecting to see Heaven like Crowley had promised you but all you were met with was a sight you never expected.

Dean had buried the scythe into the chest of Death who looked absolutely shocked. He gasps for a few moments before crumbling to dust on the floor with only Dean's panting form left standing.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“I think I just killed Death,” Dean answers with a nervous laugh before lightning crashes through the roof, striking Dean on the forearm and the Mark crackles with fierce energy.

He yells in alarm as the raised flesh fades into a bolt of light which sucks up into the air above, leaving his arm smooth again.

“The spell,” you breathe. “It worked.”

“Yeah because I'm sure only good is gonna come of this now,” Dean says apprehensively, grabbing your arm and yanking you outside to the cars.

He pulls you into the Impala as the sky splits above you, red lightning slamming into the ground all around you.

“Get in!” Dean orders and you slide into the passenger seat quickly.

A roll of black smoke edges forward from nowhere, billowing and growing higher and higher.

“Dean, what the hell is that?!” you shout.

You expect Dean to turn the engine on and book it out of there but he just sits, transfixed by the undulating cloud racing towards you.

“Dean?!” you yell again.

Still no response.

Fear is gripping your chest. You have no idea what's just been unleashed. Why on earth did you push so hard to free Dean from the Mark? You should have just let him go. In your heart of hearts, however, you knew this was always the way it was going to go down. Now you were going to have to bear the consequences of everyone's actions.

The smoke pitched and writhed as it bared down on the car, flashes of light illuminating the whirls.

“Dean?!” you try again.

Nothing.

“DEAN?!”

_Crowley, if you're out there, we messed up. We messed up so badly. God help us._

  


 

 


	24. Trading Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Mark being removed, The Darkness looms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez this has nearly been a month since the last update.  
> I'm so sorry guys. My life just kind of imploded recently so I've barely been focusing.  
> I'm concentrating on trying to get something out even if it's not amazingly long so here we go.  
> If you wanna send me PM's/prompts etc my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com | Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Also this may have a lot of errors)

“Hold on!” Dean bellows before he just winks out of existence.

To say you're panicked is an understatement. All around you is the oppressive black smoke beating down on the car, suffocating you inside. Within the undulating rolls, you see thunder.

_This has got to be it. Times up, my ticket's punched._

It was only a matter of time before you blinked out into nothing too. Were you more pissed that you didn't get to say goodbye or that Dean had done the stupid thing and been noble?

While you were contemplating your terrible life choices, you almost missed the fact that the dark cloud was receding. You exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, your chest practically aching with the tension. As soon as it had come, the smoke was gone and there was nothing but blue skies above you.

Was this it? Did you die? Was this Heaven?

So many questions swirled in your mind but the overwhelming thought you kept thinking was...I guess I must have survived? Sam and Dean always described Heaven as your favourite memory or action forever more and this certainly wasn't going to be on your top ten list.

You got out of the car, instantly calling Dean's phone. A dial tone sprang to life. That had to mean he was still around somewhere. When you cracked open the GPS app, you saw that in actual fact, he wasn't far away at all.

Curiously you followed the blinking dot on the screen which took you to a field about a mile away. You didn't see anything at first, stood at the top of the hill as you were but when you looked down...your heart skipped a beat.

Dean was face down in the dirt, limbs splayed to all sides and you couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

“Dean?!” you yell, rushing over and shaking him violently. “Dean?!”

“Where....where the hell is the car?” Dean asks groggily.

Really? He was thinking about the Impala at a time like this?!

“A mile away,” you answer and you watch as Dean's face pales.

“Wait, what?” he stammers.

“You disappeared right out of the car,” you tell him. “You don't remember anything?”

Dean seems to search his memories for a time and you take the opportunity to pull him to a sitting position. He doesn't look very worse for wear but you're still taking no chances.

“She saved me,” he finally says.

“Who?” you ask. “Don't play the pronoun game.”

“The Darkness,” Dean replies, without a hint of fear on his face.

“You're going to have to explain this to me,” you sigh, sitting down with him on the grass. “So The Darkness is a she and she saved you?”

“She thanked me for setting her free,” is all Dean offers you.

“So....what? She's indebted to you or something? She won't wipe out the world because of your actions?” you probe.

“I don't know. She's The Darkness. Does she feel anything?” Dean shrugs. “How the heck should I know?”

“Alright alright,” you calm him. “But I'm just trying to get my head around _not_ being instantly annihilated.”

“I don't get it either, princess,” Dean sighs. “Well, we know what she looks like, and we know that she's evil. The question is, what does she know? I mean, she's been locked away since the beginning of time. Does she even know what a cheeseburger is? All I know is that we set her free, and we're gonna put her back in, no matter what it takes. Are you with me, Tabs?”

“Christ knows why but yes I am,” you roll your eyes. “It's just one apocalyptic scenario after another with you two isn't it?”

“Part of our charm,” Dean grins lopsidedly. “I guess we should probably get back and check on the others right?”

“Probably,” you nod.

You get the feeling that Dean's hiding a lot of what went on. There was just something...disturbed behind his eyes. Maybe he didn't know himself what had worried him but you'd get to the bottom of it in time.

You helped him back to the Impala but he soon started walking unaided and was back to his old self quite sharpish.

“Look I got it from here,” Dean waves you off. “You get your baby, I'll take mine. This is a bad part of town to leave nice cars in.”

“Are you sure you'll be okay?” you press.

“I'm always okay, sweetheart,” Dean smiles, pulling you into a fiercesome hug.

“Are you just doing this so we'll avoid talking about the fact you almost killed me?” you scoff.

“Totally,” Dean admits. “That can be our Dr Phil moment. I just...I need time to think.”

“I get it,” you nod, not entirely comfortable with him going off on his own but you understood why. “If it's any consolation, thanks for not stabbing me with a scythe.”

Dean looks embarrassed for a time before quickly getting into the Impala and revving up the engine. He leans out of the window and thumbs in the direction of your Cortina.

“Get crackin', sweetcheeks. Sammy's probably crying into his protein oatmeal by now.”

“Sir, yes sir,” you mockingly salute before wandering over to your own car and starting it.

You follow Dean for a while but he veers off down a side road and you just shrug it off as him needing a more scenic route.

You take advantage of the quiet to stop and dig out your phone. There's no new messages so perhaps whatever Crowley, Sam, Castiel and Rowena were up to, it went alright. You call Crowley's number and it rings more than twice, which is unusual. Crowley's quite predictable in how quickly he answers. The day to day running of Hell bores him as he's said on more than one occasion.

After several rings, a different voice answers.

“Who is this?”

“Who are you?” you retort.

“You're showing up as 'Kitten'. Is that some weird sex thing the boss has going on?” the voice says in mild disgust.

“It's the _only_ sex thing he has going on,” you huff down the phone, pissed off at the third degree you were getting. “Why do you have Crowley's phone?”

“Oh....OH,” comes the voice of realisation. “Crap. You're _her_ , aren't you? The hunter.”

“Was it that obvious?” you sass back. “Now answer the damned question.”

“I apologise, my queen,” the guy fawns, trying to save his skin. “Crowley was attacked by Castiel and had to vacate his body. I've just retrieved it.”

If you weren't so blindsided by the last sentence you would've remarked on how funny it was that demons were calling you their queen.

“WHAT?!” you half yell. “Castiel tried to kill Crowley?!”

“Hey that's all I know,” the demon says.

“Tell me where he is right now,” you demand.

“Uh...you won't like it...”

“NOW.”

Who'd of thought that little ol' hunter you could scare the pants of a demon that badly that he'd cough up all the information?

  
  


**

  
  


You got to a suburban townhouse sometime later, apprehensive about what you might find there. From what the demon had told you, it wasn't going to be what you expected.

You knocked on and a beleaguered looking man opened up. You instantly wondered if this was now Crowley but the unconfident stance and the 'whipped' expression didn't give you any clues at all.

“Honey?” he calls after seeing you there. “Did you get another girl I didn't know about?”

“Excuse me?” you blink.

“Oh wow, you're British!” he smiles before turning back to shout up the stairs. “You didn't tell me you'd brought international playmates!”

There's a commotion upstairs like someone dropped something before a woman in a bathrobe comes hurrying down the stairs. For all the world she looks like the quintessential American housewife.

“Tabitha!” she cries in a sickly sweet accent.

Oh god...this was....that is....Crowley?!

_No wonder the demon said I wouldn't like it._

“Yeah sweetie, I asked her to come over. Give us a sec?” the woman/Crowley says before yanking you upstairs.

To see Crowley's cocky stance in female form and that trademark smirk was super unsettling. It just didn't feel right.

“Darling,” she says, the voice lowering somewhat.

“Oh this is too weird,” you mutter.

“You think I enjoy looking like Rachael Ray?” she says indignantly, digging her hands into the bathrobe pockets just like Crowley would do with his overcoat.

“I don't know,” you say in disbelief. “Just what the heck happened?”

“My mother,” Crowley rolled her eyes. “She betrayed me. It was a shock I know. At this point my family life would be fine fodder for a Shakespearean tragedy.”

“I was told Castiel-”

Crowley holds up a manicured hand, “Attack dog spell. Wasn't actually him. Feathers would never do anything off his own back.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Samantha's fine if that's what you mean. Locked himself in the basement behind a barricade of magical barriers. I believe the wayward angel is still searching for me. And what of...Dean?”

Crowley continued to say the name, even in female form, like it was poisonous.

“Free of the Mark,” you sigh. “But The Darkness came and apparently is fond of him.”

“Darling, that's a myth,” Crowley dismisses you. “The Darkness was a children's bedtime story, even for the likes of the angels.”

“Dean was pretty sure he saw her,” you shrug. “And I believe him. It's not the weirdest thing I've come across.”

“I'm sorry, her?” Crowley says confused.

“Apparently it's a she.”

“Well, what a trope.”

“Says the demon in a female meatsuit right now,” you retort, gesturing to her.

“What?” Crowley laughs. “Don't tell me you're not curious....”

You _were_ curious but not in the way he was probably intimating.

“How many women have you possessed?” you ask.

“Enough that my sexual prowess improved greatly,” Crowley winks with a heavily mascara'd lash. “You don't think men simply _get_ how to please a woman do you? Oh no, kitten. I had to see it from your perspective too.”

Of course Crowley would want to experience sex from the other gender's viewpoint. Who wouldn't really? You felt mildly dumb for not figuring that out.

“Want to see what I can do as a female?” she purrs out. “It's a lot more....sensual, I guarantee.”

You could feel yourself going bright red and the burn blossom on your cheeks. Even in the guise of a middle aged suburban housewife he still managed to make you feel like a naïve young girl.

“Oh my darling you are precious,” she laughs. “You know I could possess any body you found attractive, don't you? Your favourite movie star perhaps? Singer?”

“Well I just want the Crowley I've always known,” you blurt out in your embarrassment.

Something akin to genuine affection twinkles in her eyes.

“Very precious indeed,” she mutters.

“Honey?” comes a voice from the other side of the door. “Are you starting without us?”

“Just....warming her up!” Crowley replies in the sickly sweet voice and you hear footsteps recede.

“What is going on?” you blink in confusion.

“The husband of this vessel decide to surprise her with an orgy on her birthday,” Crowley sighs, folding his arms. “I was about five minutes away from killing them all before you arrived.”

“Since when does the King of Hell turn down an orgy?” you tease.

“Since he fell in love with a hunter,” Crowley sasses back, raising one plucked eyebrow. “Although if you're game to join in....”

“Nope, no thanks,” you shake your head vehemently. “Not going down that route.”

“They'd go down _many_ routes, not just one,” she winks. “But I get your point. Back to killing it is.”

“Crowley, no!” you say in horror. “Just get rid of them in a less violent way.”

“Fine,” she huffs before sauntering downstairs and you hear many panicked screams before the clash of people thudding to get out of the house.

You watch through the bedroom window as the husband and another couple scatter into the street before Crowley returns.

“Satisfied?” she says lazily before picking up a phone and dialling a number. “It's Crowley. Bring my vessel in. The riff raff have gone.”

You both went downstairs and eventually a bunch of demons arrived, carrying Crowley's male vessel on a stretcher before putting it down.

“Last chance to experience me this way,” Crowley reminds you, running her hands up and down the body in a display gesture.

You laugh and get up, taking the cover off of the male form and letting your fingers trail over the cold skin where the bristles of his beard poke out harshly.

“You really do like that vessel, don't you?” Crowley muses. “Maybe you have a thing for literary agents. That's what he used to be.”

“When did you possess him?” you ask, still running your fingers up and into the hairline, the sensation odd without the warmth.

“Some time ago,” Crowley answers cryptically, standing up and shedding the robe to reveal some skimpy lingerie.

You're lucky you'd seen literal gods and monsters because you're sure your head would've span to think that your lover was currently doing their best Victoria's Secret modelling impression.

In one motion, red smoke pours from the woman's mouth and funnels into the male vessel which swells with breath and life. You can feel the heat returning to the body and in one swift motion, your head is pulled down and you're in an upside kiss, the familiar tickle of his facial hair against your skin.

“The King is back,” he purrs and you can't help your wide grin.

“Your majesty?” a demon says and you swear it's the one you spoke to on the phone. “Are we required for anything else? Half of Hell is freaking out about The Darkness.”

“Do some damage control then,” Crowley barks, in that gruff tone. “Are you my PR man or not?”

“Yes, sire, of course,” the demon babbles before disappearing.

“Oh I should fire my entire entourage and start again,” Crowley groans. “They're pathetic.”

“But they're loyal,” you point out. “You need loyal men around you after the Abaddon incident.”

Crowley sits up and pulls you onto his lap, “Fair point, well made darling. At least they saved this vessel, I suppose. Lucky considering how much you find it attractive.”

He draws you into a long kiss and you get the sense he is savouring it immensely. He had gone through a near death experience you guessed from the way he was holding you so tightly.

Your phone starts blasting out music and the feral growl that rips through Crowley scares you slightly.

“Let me guess,” he says in a dangerous tone. “Winchesters.”

“It's Dean,” you say, looking at your screen.

“Of course. It would be too much to ask for them to leave us alone for five minutes,” Crowley hisses.

“You'd need much more than five minutes,” you quip. “Don't sell yourself short.”

Crowley bursts out into laughter before kissing your neck lightly, “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

You answer the phone and have to hold it away from your ear because Dean is yelling over the sound of the car engine, “Tabs?! Where the hell have you got to?!”

“I made a pit stop. Nearly dying makes a girl hungry,” you lie.

“We need you. Me and Sammy. We found The Darkness. She's...a baby.”

“Run that by me again?” you say in astonishment.

“Her essence or whatever...ah goddamnit, I'll put Sam on,” Dean huffs and you hear a lot of rustling.

“Are you okay, Tabitha?” Sam asks immediately.

No matter what the situation, Sam was always concerned.

“Yeah I'm fine. So explain this Darkness as a baby thing?”

Crowley scoffs slightly in the background.

“Right right. Her essence got put into a baby just as one was being born. We're with the mother now, trying to keep her safe,” Sam explains. “Guess The Darkness needed a physical body. Can you come to us? We're heading to the mother's grandmother's house. I'll text you the address. Bring Crowley.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out except a strangled squeak. Bring Crowley? Did he know you were with him?

“Sure,” you manage to say. “See you soon.”

“You look disturbed, my love,” Crowley says, running a thumb over your jawline.

“Sam,” you say. “Said to bring you. I'm not sure if he meant he couldn't be bothered ringing you or that he knew I was with you.”

“I think you're being a little paranoid,” Crowley smiles, gathering you in his arms. “Moose may be book smart but his common sense is abysmal.”

Your phone chirruped as a text came through and you looked at the words on the screen. You swear your stomach dropped through the floor as you read it.

“Kitten, what's wrong?” Crowley asks, his brow furrowed with worry.

 

**Sam: Here's the address. If you're trying to hide the fact you're with Crowley right now, tell him he sucks at keeping quiet.**

 

“He heard you laugh about the baby comment,” you whisper as another text comes through.

 

**Sam: After this is over, you and I are talking. I'm not an idiot, Tabitha. I know what's going on.**

**Tabitha: Don't tell Dean.**

**Sam: I won't providing you tell me the truth. I would hope you had enough respect for me to do that.**

**Tabitha: Ok, we'll talk after. No lies.**

**Sam: Ok.**

 

Just that short terse little reply was enough to bring all your buried guilt back to the surface. This was going to completely ruin your friendship and you knew it. A sense of dread settled in your chest at the coming hours.

“Darling,” Crowley prompts, true concern all over his expression. “What's wrong? Tell me now.”

“He knows,” you say wide eyed. “Sam knows about us.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 


	25. The Test of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam knows and you can't avoid meeting him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,  
> Like I say, sorry for the irregular schedule but I have a lot going on in home life.  
> I'm going away for a week so I wanted to get something out before I go. It's not terribly long but hey.
> 
> My email: theliveshipparagon@gmail.com | Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading!  
> -TLP xx
> 
> (Probably awful proofreading)

“I think you're being a tad overdramatic, darling,” Crowley smiles kindly. “Moose may be smart but in terms of romance he's as stunted as an overweight, pimpled teenager.”

You show him the text and Crowley furrows his brow as he reads.

“Still think I'm being melodramatic?” you sass.

“Don't jump the gun,” Crowley warns, pulling you into a hug. “I still get the feeling he doesn't quite know what is between us.”

Your head was exploding with paranoia though. What if he _did_ know? What if he never wanted to see you again? What if he told Dean? What if he tried to kill Crowley?

“Kitten!” Crowley barks, making you jump and bringing you back to the moment. “Stop thinking so bloody loud! Calm down!”

“Sorry,” you mumble, shaking your head. “Come on then, we'd best go.”

You walk out to the Cortina and get in with Crowley in the passenger seat. He makes a display of tuning the radio station to some classic rock before raising an eyebrow at you.

“I know this drivel relaxes you so,” he smirks.

“Drivel?!” you squeak. “That's Quiet Riot! How dare you!”

Crowley laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing, “You are so much fun to tease, pet. Shall we?”

You stick your tongue out at him before driving off to the location that Sam gave you. It was a long journey and you were growing ever more nervous the closer you got. Your mind ran through all the various scenarios and how things could go down, over and over.

Crowley for his part kept touching any part of you he could for reassurance and ending up humming along to the songs blasting out of your speakers which did distract you a little bit. You would never have expected the King of Hell to be a supportive partner but here you both were.

When you pulled up at the house, Dean was already waiting outside. He started walking over quickly and you hopped out, your stomach feeling like you'd swallowed a bunch of ants.

“Hey princess,” Dean quickly smiles, clapping you on the shoulder. “Good to see you're okay.”

“Hello to you too Dean,” Crowley says sarcastically. “Do I get a hug?”

“You can get my boot up your ass if you're gonna be that way,” Dean frowns. “There's something freaky going on in this house. Can you do your...mojo thing and see if anything demonic is around?”

“ _Mojo thing_?” Crowley sounds out slowly, one eyebrow perfectly arched before he sighs. “I work with such amateurs. Give me a second.”

Crowley walks towards the house before stepping inside the entrance. Dean takes that opportunity to turn to you.

“Sorry about taking off there, Tabs,” he mutters. “I just got weirded out, you know?”

“I get it,” you shrug. “I'm used to you by now.”

“And uh...sorry for the whole almost ganking you thing,” he continues, looking extremely uncomfortable. “You know I would never....”

“It's fine,” you say, waving your hand to stop him. “It was a part to play and now we have to deal with what comes next.”

“Dean?” Crowley calls. “I require your assistance.”

“I guess I've been summoned,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Hang tight.”

Sam walks into view from the house and you get to see the odd staredown as he passes Crowley. You're sure in that moment that he _must_ know because why would he be so aggressive otherwise? Even Dean seems confused by it but doesn't make any comment before he follows Crowley into the house and out of view.

“Tabitha. A word?” Sam says and your whole body just wants to be violently ill in that moment.

“Sure,” you nod, trying to keep your calm pretence up.

You walk around the Cortina and you lean on the trunk, half for comfort and half so your legs won't give out with the stress.

“So you were with Crowley-” Sam starts.

“Listen, I never meant to deceive you guys,” you blurt out. “I never expected it to happen and when it did I got so caught up in it I didn't know what to do! It was just this giant perpetuating lie that kept rolling on and I was so afraid you guys would hate me and I'm so sorry, Sam. I never should have kept this from you. I feel like such an awful person and I'm sure I'm going to Hell for this but I just can't stay away from him and he makes me happy and-”

“Wait, what?!” Sam cries, his eyes wide and blinking. “Are you telling me.....are you saying you're... _with_ Crowley?!”

Oh fuck.

The colour drains out of your face as you realise Sam had _no_ idea after all and you'd just outed yourself.

_Smooth, Tabitha. Really smooth._

“I...bloody hell, that's not what you thought at all is it?” you wince.

“No!” Sam shouts. “I thought you were just on your own private mission to butter him up and get more information from him without telling us, you know, exploiting his crush on you? Are you freakin' kidding me?! You're actually dating him?!”

You felt like the smallest person in the world right now and just wanted to get swallowed by the earth. Sam looked so betrayed and angry.

“I'm sorry,” you offer weakly.

“How long?” Sam hisses. “And no more lies.”

God you wanted to cry so badly. You felt like a horrible human being and the tears were pricking the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Months,” you almost whisper.

“MONTHS?!” he yells. “You know, I thought you were my friend Tabitha but you obviously didn't respect me or Dean enough to tell us.”

“And what would have happened if I did, huh?!” you shout back, a tear finally rolling down your cheek. “You would've still hated me! You would've probably killed Crowley and that's our friendship over with anyway! What was I supposed to do?!”

“Be a good friend,” Sam sighs, looking anguished. “That's all we wanted. Everything we've been through and you couldn't tell us something that important. You lied to us, Tabitha, you lied for months.”

“Just for the record,” you say, clearing your throat and wiping away the treacherous tear. “I never told him anything about you guys. I never betrayed anything you were doing. I'm sorry.”

You walk around your car and get in, starting the engine. Sam runs around and bangs on the window. You can just about hear him through the glass.

“Where are you going?!” he says, panicked.

You wind down the window and look him square in the eye, “You don't need me any more. I'm going somewhere where I can't be a terrible friend to you guys. Just...just don't tell Dean. Please. He doesn't need anything more on his plate.”

“Wait!” Sam calls but you speed off leaving him in the dust.

You don't know where you're going but you end up having to pull into a layby because the crying just won't stop. You knew this was going to blow up in your face at some point but you didn't expect it to happen like that. Now you'd lost your two closest friends and probably put Crowley in danger.

You lean over the steering wheel, trying to calm yourself down when you feel a hand slide across your back in a comforting manner. You jerk upright to see an unfamiliar woman with dark hair in a black dress.

“There's no need to cry,” she says, smiling. “Rejoice. You have freed me.”

“Freed you?” you say uncertainly. “Who are you?”

“Amara,” she replies cagily. “You and Dean, I saw what you did for me, removing the Mark? He and I are bound in a way that I can't explain but you...I will keep you alive for your role in my escape, my dear. Any one who harms you...well, they won't live long.”

She stuns you by leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I should return to my infant form but remember what I have said. You are among _my_ chosen.”

You blink for a millisecond but she's gone.

Amara. That was the Darkness right? She'd taken a liking to you?! Oh well this day just couldn't get any worse....

  


**

  
  
“Hey, where the hell did she go?” Dean asked, watching your car grow to a pinprick on the horizon.

“She left,” Sam said snappily.

“What gives, man?” Dean scowled. “Did you upset her?”

“No idea,” Sam shrugged curtly before turning to Crowley.

Crowley could see it written all over Sam's face. He _did_ know and he was intensely angry about it. Maybe it was high time that he vanish. Probably wouldn't do to be skewered by an incensed Winchester.

“Can I talk to you, outside?” Sam said as evenly as he could.

“What's the magic word, Moose?” Crowley said before he could stop himself.

He really must learn not to antagonise a potentially lethal situation but he couldn't help himself.

“Crowley...”

“Fine, lead the way,” Crowley motioned.

Once outside, Sam escorted him around the back of the house before his mood flipped and Crowley found himself shoved up against the baseboards with a forearm pressed into his throat.

“How dare you!” Sam spat. “What have you done to her?!”

“I've done nothing!” Crowley hissed back. “Can't you engage your miniscule brain for once and realise she made the choice?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Because why else would she be with a demon?”

“Because she loves me,” Crowley said seriously and knew that was the wrong answer because he felt the cold steel of the demon knife at his temple. “And I love her!”

“What?” Sam stammered, blindsided. “You... _love_ her?!”

“As hard as this is to process, yes,” Crowley sighed. “I desired her to start with, true. It was purely a carnal thing-”

“Oh god...” Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust but Crowley rolled his eyes and continued.

“But she fascinated me. After your failed little blood drive I realised I am capable of feelings. I was capable of love. I have made mistakes with her, yes I am big enough and bold enough to admit that but I truly adore that woman and I would do anything for her.”

“I can almost believe you,” Sam sneered. “Fantastic performance.”

“It's true, Samuel,” Crowley said. “As cliché as it is, star crossed lovers and all, I would give my immortal life for her.”

Sam released the pressure on Crowley's throat and stepped back, looking thoroughly shocked.

“Holy crap...you....you actually _do_ love her, don't you?” he stuttered. “That's why you hated Dean so much.”

“Water under the bridge,” Crowley dismisses. “There was a time I thought Tabitha was turning away from me to him but for some unearthly reason, she's loyal to me. I will never know why she choose to love me back. I certainly don't deserve it.”

Pouring all of these feelings out felt rough but also cathartic. Crowley felt lucky that it was Sam questioning him and not Dean because he was sure Dean would've preferred a more violent interrogation.

“I...I don't know what to say,” Sam sighed, running his hand through his unruly hair. “I wasn't expecting this to be genuine.”

“Trust me, Moose. I'm as surprised as you are,” Crowley shrugged. “So...what are you going to do? Because Tabitha doesn't deserve your anger. If you want to blame anyone, blame me.”

Sam looks immensely sad for a second, “I don't know. I don't want to lose her as a friend but you both lied to us. You I expected it from but not her.”

“She's run off, hasn't she?” Crowley deduced.

“Yes,” Sam confirmed. “She's more like my brother than she wants to admit.”

“Oh please don't put that image in my head,” Crowley groaned.

Sam ignored that comment, “Listen...I'll....I'll allow this to continue but under the condition that if you ever hurt her and if you ever betray us, you're at the top of the hit list.”

“Sam, I don't ever intend to hurt something that wonderful,” Crowley said honestly. “But I accept your terms. Will you tell Dean?”

“No,” Sam blurted out quickly. “I don't think he'd handle this very well. Just...don't be all...coupley around me, okay? This is still weird.”

“You know, I'd embrace you but I feel that oversteps our boundaries,” Crowley winked. “I should go find her.”

“I'll do it,” Sam interjected. “She ran away because she was afraid of me and I don't want that. I want her to know I'm not angry...well I mean, I am but not in a friendship ending kind of way.”

“Then find her,” Crowley nodded. “As much as I hate to be overly affectionate with you boys, good luck and....thank you.”

“Wow,” Sam laughed. “You really have changed, haven't you?”

“The love of a good woman can work miracles, Sam,” Crowley chuckled. “It truly can.”

  


  


 


	26. Secrets and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of yours and Crowley's admission to Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! I've been abroad so haven't had much writing time.  
> No warnings for this chapter  
> As usual my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com | Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Probably proofreading errors)

So here you were, in some unknown backwater town's local diner, drowning your sorrows in a mountain of chilli cheese fries and the largest milkshake you could order. Alcohol was no good to you right now as it only made your mood worse a lot of the time.

You're sure your old superiors at the Men of Letters headquarters would've dragged you over the coals for your defeatist attitude right now. You were supposed to be emotionless, you were supposed to be ruthless. You'd killed a team member in your initial training just because they told you too. Where was that agent now? Certainly not moping in the bottom of a milkshake glass that was for sure.

Your time with the Winchesters had softened you immensely. You'd relearned the value of family, you'd relearned how to be more than a tool for someone higher up the chain...you'd discovered love.

That was the thing that was killing you right now. Your affectionate love for the brothers versus your romantic love for Crowley. What a mess it had got you in.

You'd been picking at your food for a solid hour. You weren't really hungry but you knew you should probably keep your strength up. Either you'd be walking back into a fight at some point or you may have to run.

A hand clamped down on your shoulder, startling you enough to knock some of your fries onto the cheap plastic table.

“This seat taken?” a familiar voice says and everything tenses up as you look into the perpetually furrowed eyes of Sam.

“Free country,” you mumble back, completely on edge.

Sam hefts himself into the booth and sits opposite you, resting his forearms on the table and taking a deep breath.

“So....Crowley huh?” he starts.

“Yeah,” you say confrontationally.

“I'm not here to pick a fight,” he says holding his hands up. “Although your taste in men is crap, I will say that.”

You laugh involuntarily. This is really not what you were expecting.

“Are you....” you begin but you're not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

“Pissed? Yeah,” he nods. “Because you didn't respect me enough to tell me. Pissed because it's Crowley of all the beings in the universe, I mean...even a vamp would've been better. The King of Hell, seriously? Do you have some deep rooted issues there that you need to talk about?”

“Sam,” you warn. “Your dating tastes haven't been fantastic either.”

He stutters, trying to refute the point but he knows he can't. After Jess he'd never gone for anything serious.

“Alright, that's fair,” he sighs. “Why couldn't you just say Tabitha?”

“How was I meant to broach that subject Sam?” you say exasperatedly. “'Oh by the way, I am dating your sometimes mortal enemy, sometimes ally?' I mean, come on...”

“Yeah I guess,” he says, running a hand through his long hair.

“Is he....is he alive?” you ask quietly, hand gripping the fork with more force than you realised.

“Crowley? Yeah he's still working on the Amara thing with Dean...who doesn't know by the way,” Sam interjects quickly.

The fork clattered onto the table as the relief flooded through you. You hadn't known you were holding your breath so badly.

“You really do have feelings don't you?” Sam prompts. “It's not some spellwork or anything?”

“No, it's all me,” you smile sheepishly.

“Well....thanks for giving me a first, I guess,” Sam laughs slightly to himself. “Never seen a demon in love before. That's a new one.”

“You got that, huh?” you say, trying to judge his reaction.

“The fact he was ready to die for you? That kind of sent a clear message,” Sam raises his eyebrows. “Crowley is the most selfish being I've ever come across but with you....he's selfless. No wonder he was so eager to help us all those times if it was going on that long.”

“I have my ways,” you smirk, feeling the last of the tension deflate.

“Tabitha....just don't ever lie to me again, okay?” Sam says seriously. “And you will have to tell Dean soon because I am not going to be guilty by association. I've done the secrets thing and it's not good.”

“I get it,” you nod. “I promise I won't lie to you.”

“Alright, so order me a wrap and we'll call it quits,” Sam smiles.

You burst out laughing.

“I don't think they do that here,” you giggle. “You'll be lucky to get a salad that wasn't drenched in ranch.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, “Fine, I'll just settle for stealing this.”

He reaches over and grabs your milkshake, purposefully spooning lots into his mouth to make his point.

“You go for it but you'll have to run behind the Cortina to burn that off,” you joke.

“Very funny,” he says dryly before wiping his mouth. “Shall we head back?”

“Now that I know you're not here to kill me, sure,” you say, standing up and grabbing your jacket.

“Wait, what?” Sam blinks. “You thought I would....seriously?!”

“I didn't know what to think,” you admit.

“Tabitha,” Sam says with his famous sad frown. “I would never. I'm angry but you're my friend. Hell I've forgiven Dean for more, right? Come here.”

He stands up, extending his arms out and you walk into them, savouring the familiarity of his signature bear hugs. Even in this diner full of patrons who looked like they'd rather chase you out of the town than stand your sheer presence, you just went for it. It was comforting to know you'd not ruined your life completely.

A text tone beeped and you pull away, going to look at your phone.

  


**NOT LOVER: Tell me you're safe**

**TABITHA: I'm safe**

**NOT LOVER: Has Detective Moose found you?**

**TABITHA: We talked. It's all good.**

**NOT LOVER: He is surprisingly astute for an overgrown Neanderthal. Be safe when coming back my love.**

**TABITHA: I always try to be**

  


“Being nagged already?” Sam says knowingly.

“Relationships, right?” you smile.

“Come on, let's get back,” Sam laughs, putting his arm around your shoulders and guiding you out. “They're actually back at the bunker now. The search for Amara was a bust apparently.”

  


  


**  
  


  


Crowley knew he shouldn't be doing it. He knew this was going to go badly but he knew since Sam was aware of your relationship, it was only a matter of time before Dean did.

He found the girl, Amara, The Darkness. He found her when the Winchesters had given up and taken her into his care. She was older now, practically a young child. Some quirk of the universe was aging her quickly.

Amara had power and selfishly he thought he could use it to protect himself, to protect you against Dean's impending meltdown.

She had mentioned your name fondly, almost like one would an auntie. You were her chosen, she said. He knew in that instance she would keep you from harm.

“Uncle Crowley?” that deceptively sweet voice said. “Is she going to visit soon?”

“Patience, little one,” Crowley reassured her. “She needs....time. Time to...adjust to your prescence. She's seen you all grown up after all.”

“Promise me she'll visit soon,” Amara said with more authority than a young girl should.

“Of course,” Crowley said humbly, feeling his phone buzz in his suit jacket pocket.

  


**TABITHA: Just got back. Are you here somewhere?**

**NOT LOVER: Will pop up now. Meet you in your room.**

  


“Uncle Crowley has to go now,” he sighed. “I'll leave you in my...entourage's care. Be good and I'll bring you sweets.”

“Bye,” she waved before going to play behind the pillars of the throne room.

Crowley had his misgivings about leaving her alone with his minions. Their track record wasn't stellar but what else could he do really? He wasn't about to start avoiding you to achieve his new goals.

But just how was he going to explain this to you?

  


  


**

  


 

When you got back to the Bunker with Sam, Dean was already there, eating pie like it was going to disappear if he put his fork down.

“You know you can chew, right?” you say sarcastically, watching him wolf it down.

“No can do, sweetcheeks,” Dean replies with a mouthful of mushed pie. “Amara is out there. The house search got us bubkiss but I know she's out there.”

“And that requires you to choke on your food?”

“Not got time to waste,” Dean shook his head. “Gotta put the lid back on Pandora's box ASAP. Isn't that right Cas?”

The angel appeared from one of the back rooms, nervously fiddling with the chains he was in.

“The Darkness has infinite power. She needs to be stopped before she gains her full potential,” Castiel says seriously.

“Before she grows up,” Dean mutters.

“Well God has stopped her before, right?” Sam asks. “Would be useful if he showed up to help.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Castiel sighs.

“So we're at square one, huh? Well that's just great,” Dean huffs, jamming the last of the pie into his mouth.

From what you had gleaned, the Darkness was an entity older than the creation of the angels. Locked away in some void, there was barely any lore or just even _any_ information on her. Castiel had told you a little in that she was God's sister and he'd been the one to cage her but nothing more than that. Just exactly how were you supposed to go against a being on the same level as God? And why was she taking an interest in you and Dean?

Maybe there was someone who knew more about the Darkness, maybe someone who had been God's right hand, his confidante.

“You're not gonna like this idea,” you announce which earns you several turned heads. “But we know a certain scribe who God told everything too. Maybe he told Metatron how to stuff the Darkness back in the void?”

“Not an option,” Dean dismisses immediately. “After what that douche did to you and me, no frickin' way. He stays where he is.”

“Just a thought,” you shrug.

“Anyway, what was your disappearing act about, Tabs?” Dean says, diverting the conversation deliberately.

“She got frustrated with Crowley and needed a breather,” Sam interjects, saving your bacon.

“Easy enough,” Dean shrugs. “Try and keep it together next time so I'm not left on my own with the salesman from Hell, okay?”

“You're a big boy, you can handle it,” you fire back.

“Heh, she called me a big boy,” Dean smirks to Castiel who just looks back blankly like he doesn't catch the inference.

“Dean, concentrate,” Sam sighs. “We have other problems.”

You look over at the angel who's shackled. Ever since Rowena had put the attack spell on him, he'd been unable to shake it off. Now he was considered too dangerous for his own good and the only way to save him was to find the damn witch.

“I know you hate his guts right now but can you call Crowley, Tabs?” Dean asks, looking tired. You knew he'd been running on empty for a while.

“Sure,” you nod. “But you get some rest first. I'll sort out the arrangements.”

“You're too good to me, princess,” Dean smiles before hefting his frame out of the chair and walking out.

You felt rather than saw Sam's eyes boring into you.

“I feel like crap enough without you gawking,” you raise your eyebrow and look pointedly at Sam who blushes a little. “I'll tell him when I'm ready.”

“I take it you know the situation, Sam,” Castiel states.

“Yeah I know,” Sam purses his lips together. “Did you know?”

“Yes,” the angel admits, unable to lie very easily. “I've been protecting her because she refused to end their courting. I've kept her safe, haven't I? I hope I have at least.”

“You have,” you affirm, touching his arm, knowing he wouldn't hurt you. “You've helped me a lot, Cas.”

“Is everyone lying to me?” Sam throws his hands up into the air. “I can't believe you of all people, Cas, kept secrets.”

“I am truly sorry, Sam,” Castiel says, hanging his head in shame. “I was trying to make sure Tabitha was safe and Dean was under the influence of the Mark at the time. He would've killed her if I had not kept my silence.”

“Alright alright, I get it,” Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm just gonna need some time to adjust to this.”

“Understood,” Castiel nods. “But he does genuinely care for her.”

“Yeah, enough,” Sam says quickly. “Weird enough that a demon can love but weirder that an angel would sanction it. I'm gonna get some sleep. Wake me when you've met with Crowley, okay?”

“Sure,” you agree before saying your farewells and walking out, texting Crowley as you went.

When you got to your room, he was already there. He seemed a little rumpled, ruffled even. Something was clearly bothering him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, concerned.

“Of course, darling,” Crowley smiles, circling your waist in his arms and kissing you. “It's just been a trying day is all. Glad to see you are safe.”

“I didn't think I would be for a while there,” you admit.

“And then your King saved the day,” he smirks.

“Did he now?” you huff, blindsided by the arrogance.

“By confessing my undying love for you to our dear Samantha,” Crowley says, studying your reaction. “That certainly seemed to make him less....ireful.”

“You did that?”

“At a great cost to my personal pride and reputation, yes I did,” Crowley laughs. “I'm sure Moose will be having nightmares about what I said for weeks.”

“He says we'll have to tell Dean soon,” you say, fidgeting nervously.

“And what do you think, pet?”

“I'm scared to,” you say honestly. “Sam's reasonable but Dean's...emotional.”

“Maybe when the Darkness is contained we can tell him, together,” Crowley says, pulling you into a hug.

You get the feeling that statement was weighted. You didn't know what it was but something was tickling the back of your mind and didn't feel right.

“Contained?” you ask.

“When your Scooby gang figures it out. Darling, the Winchesters always subvert the apocalypses thrown at them and so do you,” Crowley reassures you.

“I hope so,” you mumble. “Can you help us with the other problem? The Cas problem?”

“Oh....well that does mean finding _her_ again,” Crowley spits with venom.

“Please?”

“The things I do for love,” Crowley sighs before kissing your forehead. “Consider it done, though you owe me.”

“Even I can't escape your deals, huh?” you smile.

“At least I ask nice things of you, pet,” he laughs gruffly. “Now I suppose we'd best make a start.”

  


  


**

  
  
  
Looking into your eyes, Crowley lost his nerve.

He couldn't tell you about Amara. He just couldn't. He didn't think you would get it.

_Maybe someday you will. I'm sorry to keep more secrets my love but it really is for the best. I'm doing this for us._

 


	27. Heaven's Pit Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley keeps his secret going and you try to break Castiel free from his attack dog curse...but it means finding Rowena first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Honestly, I'm going to confess that the last few chapters I had lost enthusiasm and had gotten malaised with it.  
> In this one I've found that spark again. I was concentrating too much on Crowley and reader and not enough in the world around them but I think I've managed to rectify that a bit. Maybe I just missed the banter between Dean, Sam and the reader!  
> Happy reading everyone!  
> \- TLP xx  
> Likely to be some proofreading errors as per normal

“Rise my chosen,” The Darkness said and you stumbled from your place on the floor.

Dean was next to you, on edge and wary.

“Why do you fear me so?” she asks.

“You want to destroy everything,” you state.

“Do I?” The Darkness replies. “Or do I want to remake this...Earth in my own fashion?”

“Would it be better though?” Dean says. “A better world. No hate, no violence, no goddamn tragedies every goddamn day?”

“No,” she answers honestly. “But it will be consistent.”

“Sorry, then we have to stop you,” Dean says resolutely.

“And you?” the Darkness implores, turning to face you full on, the moonlight shining off the sharp angle of her cheekbones.

“This world is rotten but it's what we know,” you reply. “And I will fight for its right to _be_ rotten. God gave us free will.”

“God is a fool!” she yells suddenly, the voice booming into your mind. “He is weak!”

She surveys you both for a time, seemingly sad at your decision.

“Is this what your path will be?” she says softly.

“Yes,” Dean nods.

“Then go,” the Darkness hisses. “I will still keep a place in my heart for you both. You were there in my second beginning and I have faith you will come to know I am truly the better option.”

With that she clicks her fingers.

 

 

**

 

 

You awoke with a start, sheets plastered to your sweating body.

Had that really just happened or was it some nightmare?

You wrenched yourself out of the bed, almost skittering down the corridor, past a bewildered Sam who saw the flash of you running by in pyjamas.

“Hey!” he calls but you ignore him.

You reach Dean's room, opening the door to see him pale, his fists twisted in the covers. His eyes meet yours and in that instant you knew it wasn't a dream.

“It was real,” he states, matter of factly.

“Why us?” you pant.

“We set her free,” Dean sighs and you notice he is shaking silently.

“Bollocks,” you murmur to yourself, your hands coming behind your neck to wring it. “We are so far in over our heads.”

“Why am I so calm around her?” Dean asks in a quiet voice. “It's like...I can't fight.”

“I feel it too,” you admit. “There's something horribly serene about her.”

“I'm a mess still,” Dean hangs his head. “All bite when I had the Mark and no bark now The Darkness is free.”

“Hey, it's okay,” you say, coming to sit next to him on the bed and pulling him into a hug. “We'll figure it out. We always do.”

“This is kind of a world ender, princess,” Dean laughs bitterly. “The Lucifer/Michael show was just a warm up gig.”

“And we'll figure it out,” you repeat. “Without or without God's help. Wherever the hell he is.”

Dean grips you more tightly and you can feel him bury his face in your hair.

“Promise?” he says meekly.

“Promise,” you reply. “Now let's deal with the problems that we can fix right now. Namely Cas.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “We should.”

A soft knock at the door makes you jerk back a little from Dean's embrace as you see Sam looking at you strangely from the doorway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Dual nightmare,” you explain. “Had a two on one Jerry Springer session with the Darkness.”

“And?!” Sam cries, pulling Dean's desk chair to the foot of the bed and sitting on it.

“She thinks we're her chosen,” Dean sighs. “That we'll just allow her to burn the world and start again like a freakin' Lego set.”

“Wow,” Sam blinks. “That's some delusion.”

“But we've got more pressing issues,” you cut in. “We need to uncurse Cas. Crowley's on the lookout for Rowena as we speak but maybe there's something we can find to stop the rages.”

“I'm on it,” Sam nods, getting up.

“Hey, can you be on breakfast instead?” Dean smirks, obviously trying to fake some normality. “Can't read books on an empty stomach.”

“Just go to the damn coffee shop like a normal person,” Sam rolls his eyes. “It's literally a two minute drive away.”

“Ah come on Sammy!” Dean protests. “It takes like five minutes to make a pancake!”

“Tough,” Sam huffs. “I'm not your personal chef. Get it yourself.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbles, getting up.

You note he still sleeps full clothed. A habit he's never really grown out of since you've known him. He says it's to be prepared in case of an attack and you feel that's a slightly sad outlook on life.

“Tabitha, meet you in the library?” Sam asks.

“Yeah sure,” you smile.

“Want anything, sweetheart?” Dean says, pulling on a jacket.

“I wouldn't say no to tea and a muffin,” you admit.

“Done,” Dean laughs.

“Hey, what about me?” Sam frowns.

“Get it yourself Sammy,” Dean winks before sauntering out of the bedroom and out of the bunker.

Sam waits until he hears the main door close until he turns to you.

“You're gonna have to tell him soon,” he says grimly.

“He's not in the right frame of mind,” you counter. “Neither am I to be fair. It's not easy being dream invaded.”

“Right,” Sam sighs. “Sorry. I just...I think the longer you go without telling him, the worse his reaction will be.”

“I'm already expecting him to murder Crowley the instant I say anything,” you mutter. “Can't set my expectations any lower than that.”

“He wouldn't do that,” Sam says firmly. “He might...beat him up but I don't think he'd kill him. He wouldn't want to make you unhappy. He still-”

“He still has feelings,” you finish your sentence.

“Yeah,” Sam smiles sadly. “He fell pretty hard for you. You know you're like his perfect woman right?”

“I'm not a busty Asian,” you laugh and that prompts a snort from Sam.

“Fair point,” he grins. “Just don't wait too long. Please? He's my brother and I don't want to see him hurt any more than he has been.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I won't. Now let's stop blathering on and save Cas.”

“Deal,” Sam says standing up. “To the library.”

 

 

**

 

  
  
Cas was sat next to you at the table, still chained down but looking relatively demure.

You still didn't know how he could be so poised and elegant sometimes but completely clumsy and awkward in other times.

“You're staring,” Cas notes. “Do I have something on my face perhaps?”

“No I'm just...thinking,” you blush.

“I see,” the angel nods. “Have you found anything useful?”

“Just hearsay,” you shake your head. “Nothing concrete.”

“Delivery!” Dean shouts as he comes back into the bunker, setting food and drinks down.

You hungrily start wolfing some down, starving after your rude awakening this morning. Dean's the same, barely breathing as he stuffs his pancakes into his mouth.

“I officially hate the way you two eat,” Sam raises his hands. “It's like watching a nature documentary.”

“Humans _are_ animals though,” Cas points out.

“Those two certainly are,” Sam wrinkles his nose.

You and Dean share a wink before continuing to eat.

A groan of pain makes you drop the food as you turn to Cas who's hunched over and begins falling out of the chair. You rush to steady him but he completely flops in your arms and you have to lay him on the floor, his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Hey! What's going on?!” you ask in panic. “Cas?!”

His eyes flutter open as he refocuses.

“Are you okay?!” Dean yells.

“Relative to what?” the angel asks in confusion.

“What year is it?” Sam questions.

“Seven billions years since the Creation,” Cas mumbles. “I think.”

“Come on,” you say, lifting him back up. “Easy now. What just happened?”

“It was like...I was in a blender...on a puree setting for tomato salsa.”

Cas made some truly weird analogies sometimes.

“And you're the tomato?” Dean quirks his eyebrow.

“In this particular story, yes,” Castiel grimaces. “I blacked out.”

“Just rest,” you implore, squeezing his arm gently. “You're still under the curse.”

“I am fine. I will do my best. The chatter is not helping though.”

“Chatter?” Sam asks.

“Angel radio. They're looking for Metatron. You need to find him,” Castiel implores you.

“Alright alright, we will,” Dean reassures him. “But first we need to find Rowena.”

“I don't matter,” the angel says firmly. “It is more important you intercept the angels in their quest.”

“Of course you matter,” you hiss. “You're getting worse. We're not just going to sit by and let that happen.”

Castiel seems to tear up a little, “You are truly good friends.”

“Tabs, use whatever feminine thingies you got and get Crowley on side,” Dean orders, making the angel more comfortable. “We need his help.”

“On it,” you nod, leaving the room and whipping out your phone.

 

**

  
  
  
She grew more every day.

Crowley had specified a nanny to watch over her development, feeding her, letting her learn about the world she'd never seen. He knew in what was left of his soul that this was a terrible idea but he supposed he was saving you from having to deal with her influence on the surface. The girl's impulses were terrible and she'd kill everything for fun.

“Amara, sweetie,” Crowley uses his parent voice. “I have a gift for you.”

“Is it blood?” she answers in that sickly sweet tone.

“Not quite,” Crowley admits. “I have books for you. Something to educate you about life on earth. Never too late to improve your mind.”

“I agree,” Amara says in a way that belies her millenia old soul. “The nanny got me some.”

Crowley walked over to the bedside table, picking up tomes.

“Dantes Inferno?” he questions. “In the original Italian no less. My my, she has been busy. Has she taught you anything else about this world?”

“Some things,” the girl admits. “Doesn't work very well, huh?”

“I take it you have improvements in mind?” Crowley asks carefully. “After all, the big bang, evolution, Taylor Swift, it's not impressive by any means.”

“Oh I do,” Amara smiles. “But now I don't wanna talk. I'm hungry.”

“But of course,” Crowley bows slightly. “How silly of me.”

He grabs the nearest demon, offering it up and watches as she sucks the soul right out of the body. Something curled in his stomach at the sight. Fear perhaps?

“Thank you Uncle Crowley,” Amara grins before running off to pick up another book.

Crowley watched her for a time before coming out of the makeshift chambers and into the throne room again.

His phone buzzed and he felt momentarily relieved to see your name. You were asking for updates on his mother so you could cure the angel.

“Lance?” he calls out to his new secretary.

“Yes, your majesty?” the demon answers.

“Report on my mother.”

“Very well, sire,” Lance nods. “She was last seen heading to Kansas City Aiport.”

“Good work,” Crowley says nonchalantly. “Nice to see someone can get the job done for a change.”

“My liege,” the demon grins widely.

“Now leave me, I have business to attend to,” Crowley dismisses before he returns his attention to the phone.

 

**Not Lover: Sources tell me she's at the Kansas City Airport. Hurry and catch her.**

**Tabitha: Thank you. Everything okay down there? You've been quiet lately.**

**Not Lover: Just a lot of unrest since The Darkness appeared. Nothing to worry about, kitten. I'll see you soon.**

 

 

Why did this feel so wrong to him now? In the past when he'd had secrets from you, he'd been able to bury the feeling, the misgivings. Now it just seemed to pull at his meatsuit's gut.

_I must be head over heels for her._

And that was the rub. He loved you intensely and knew that this would displease you. He was afraid of your reaction. Somewhere deep in his brain though, he convinced himself it was for the best. He was keeping her away from you at least and her creepy interest in you disturbed him a lot.

_She is not your chosen, she is mine._

 

 

  
**

  
  
You'd picked up Rowena trying to flag a taxi, wearing a dreadful blonde wig as a disguise. She's protested immensely when you'd slapped the magic cancelling handcuffs on her, calling you all sorts of insults that you didn't even understand.

You managed to get her back to the bunker and practically shoved her into the holding cell before Sam went through her suitcase.

“Mind the lingerie,” she winks. “It's imported.”

“Where is it?” Sam growls, flinging clothes around himself.

“Where is what?” she answers innocently.

“The Book of the Damned,” you clarify. “I see the codex translations in there but not the book.”

“Do you really think me such an idiot, Tabitha?” she rolls her eyes. “Like I'm going to keep those two things on me when you've been breathing down my neck this whole time.”

“Well we'll just take this codex and see how useful translating the Book will be to you now,” Sam says sarcastically.

“Fine fine, Samuel,” she sighs. “I take it I'm here to deal with your rabid angel problem?”

“Fix. Him,” you hiss.

“Or what, you'll complain to my son?” she shoots back. “Grass Mummy Dearest up?”

You desperately rein in your temper before you punch her in the face. God knows it's all you want to do right now but you refrain.

“Fix him and we'll let you get on with your merry way,” you offer.

“No chasing me down?” she quirks her eyebrow.

“No chasing you,” you reply. “Just lift your damn curse.”

“Alright, lassy. Bring him here then,” she agrees.

You turn to Sam who nods and leaves the room, only to be replaced by Dean who seems less than thrilled to see the witch here again.

“Going okay?” he asks you.

“Peachy keen,” you huff.

“Your eyes,” Rowena says gently to Dean. “So burdened....what exactly happened after I removed the Mark?”

You can feel Dean tense behind you. She'd managed to rile him up so you put a reassuring hand on his arm.

This witch had a real talent for getting under people's skin.

Sam comes darting back into the room, “He's gone.”

“What?!” you whirl around.

“Cas, I can't find him,” Sam breathes.

 

**

 

  
Crowley looks at the mounting pile of demon meatsuits.

Amara was growing hungrier and it would only be a matter of time before her appetite outgrew Hell. It was vast, obviously, but demons weren't limitless and Crowley still wanted to rule over _something_ at the end of this all.

“Can I have dessert Uncle Crowley?” the bored girl said, kicking her legs as she swung them on the table.

“Not right now, sweetheart,” Crowley said as gently as he could. “What were we talking about?”

“How God screwed up when he created Mankind?” she offers. “Everytime I eat a soul, I feel the emptiness inside. Man doesn't know his purpose and it tenderises his soul with torment. God made a world where people suffer.”

“Unfortunately,” Crowley agrees.

“But why do they fight me?” she asks, casting her big innocent eyes up. “Why do they choose this life?”

“Your insight is spectacular, cupcake,” Crowley sighs. “People accept what they are given. You can give them the chance at a new world. A world where everything is evil and in your making.”

“Would you like an evil world?” she presses.

Crowley thinks about it for precisely two seconds. An evil world would mean one where you never existed as you are. You were a practical paragon of heroicness and light and it was that that was part of your attraction. You strayed into depravity now and then but at your core, you were unashamedly good.

“No,” he says firmly. “Darkness and light should exist in balance.”

Amara surprises him by laughing, “Heaven, hell, good, evil, it's all just so....unimportant.”

“Well I wouldn't say that at all,” Crowley frowns.

“Uncle Crowley, I'm hungry,” Amara declares, seemingly bored of this conversation.

Crowley was beginning to understand he was in over his head. A girl she may seem but she had the wisdom of eons and a philosophy he wasn't quite sure of. She was clearly in control here and Crowley was just a facilitator.

He needed to put a stop to this soon.

The cries of another minion rang out as she drained his soul, leaning back with abject satisfaction onto the table and staring at the ceiling, picking lazily at her teeth.

_Definitely need to put a stop to it soon._

 

 

**

  
  
  
“I thought a road trip with the Winchesters and their Brit would be more exciting,” Rowena complains, cuffed in the back of the Impala while Sam sits next to her.

You were grateful for that. You probably would've beat her stupid smug face in long before you found Cas otherwise.

You were sat in the front, directing Dean to the tiny blinking dot on your GPS. It was moving fast up the alleyways but suddenly it stopped.

“Pull over!” you order. “He's close.”

You all scramble out of the car, Sam pulling Rowena along as you and Dean move up ahead. You stealth to where the GPS is telling you to go and look around the corner to see Castiel strangling a woman, a glazed over look on his face.

“Cas, stop!” Dean yells in alarm.

You sprint forward, yanking the angel away from the terrified girl who you tell to run. She doesn't even dally as she skitters off down the street.

You get jumped from behind by the rabid angel who punches you hard across the face. You can feel the blood in your mouth and you manage to get your arms up to stop him from breaking your cheekbone. You can already feel the bruises forming on your forearms as he relentlessly batters at your body.

“TABS!” Dean cries, tackling Castiel away from you.

You see Rowena in the distance muttering to herself and hope she's undoing the spell. Sam seems to be monitoring her at least.

You watch Castiel's sentience start to return to his eyes, his hands lowering and his gait becoming awkward again. He seems to shake his head before looking around him and his eyes widen when he spots you.

“Been fun boys and girls but I'll be going now,” Rowena says shrilly.

You guessed the cuffs had reached their limit because she vanishes from view.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean roars, kicking a discarded beer bottle.

“It's fine,” you say, struggling to your feet. “Cas is fine. That's all that really matters.”

“Jesus, are you okay?” Dean panics, rushing to your side to inspect your injuries.

“Had worse,” you shrug. “Come on, let's get home. I just want a whisky on the rocks and good sleep right now.”

“Well we won't deny you that,” Sam smiles, finally reaching you.

They pull Castiel into the Impala who seems absolutely broken by what he's done. He's silent the entire ride back until you get into the bunker and head straight for the fridge.

You grab an ice pack, pressing it to your swollen cheek and hissing slightly as it makes contact.

“Make sure you put antiseptic on that,” Sam advises.

“Thanks mum,” you sass back to which Dean starts sniggering. “Remind me not to let my guard down again.”

“Tabitha,” comes the mournful voice of the angel. “I'm...there are no words.”

“You're right,” you nod. “There _are_ no words because it wasn't your fault. You were under a spell. If you dare start blaming yourself I'll throw you off my Netflix account.”

“You had Rowena in your custody,” Castiel sighs. “And because of me...”

“Because nothing, alright?” Dean cuts in. “We have her codex. She won't get far. 'Sides, we have bigger things to worry about.”

“The Darkness,” Castiel agrees before flicking his eyes back to you. “Let me heal you, Tabitha.”

“I'm fine, really,” you shrug. “It's a good reminder to be alert in the future.”

“If you are sure,” the angel murmurs, not entirely convinced.

“I am. Now how about getting those drinks in?” you ask Dean whose face lights up.

“Sure thing, princess. Sit down and rest up. Dean's Bar is open for business.”

 

 

**

  
  
Crowley was wandering to Amara's room when he stopped.

The feet of the newly declared nanny was sticking out of the doorway. Most likely the soul had been sucked right out of her.

Carefully he pushed open the door and saw a teenage girl staring at herself in the mirror. She must have grown in years again.

“Amara?” he questions.

She turns around, attitude all over her face, “I'm hungry.”

“Yes I know, pumpkin, but we need to have a chat first.”

“I SAID [I](mailto:I@M)'M HUNGRY!” she bellows, having a tantrum.

There was no way he could keep this a secret any longer. Control had firmly left him and he was playing with fire.

“Will you listen if I bring Tabitha to you?” he ventures.

Amara's demeanour changes in an instant to something sweet and innocent again.

“Yes. I would find that pleasing.”

“Then it shall be done,” Crowley bows, backing out of the room and shutting the door.

_Kitten, what have I done?_

  
  
  


 


	28. The Darkness Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take care of Castiel whilst the boys follow up on a lead with Amara. Meanwhile Crowley starts to lose control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Time for another lengthy chapter.  
> I apologise now but prepare for heavy angst!  
> I'm in the process of transferring this story onto tumblr right now: theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading !  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Proofreading errors likely)

 

He knew she'd gotten out again.

Crowley walked to Amara's room, dreading what he'd find. He shoved his doubts and fears into the back of his head as he pulled the cocky attitude to the front line.

“Midnight snack?” he sassed at the teenage girl wiping her mouth.

“You didn't want me to feed on your demons so I'm not,” she hisses back with all of that angst young girls possess.

“I was clear. No going to the surface where they can see you. It's too risky,” Crowley bristles.

“I need to eat!” she yells, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect.

Crowley really wished she was just a teenage in looks alone sometimes. This was exhausting and all of his resources were going into just keeping her contained. He'd barely seen you in days and he was sure you were starting to notice the long absences.

“Actions have consequences, young lady,” Crowley says sternly. “This will hurt me more than it hurts you but you're grounded.”

Amara tries to leave but Crowley focuses his energy, flinging her back onto the bed before her petulant little tantrum got out of hand.

“You're strong but I'm stronger,” Crowley growls.

“For now.”

Those two words sent shivers down Crowley's spine.

He really was in over his head and he needed to tell you immediately.

  


**

  


You'd spent most of the last few days comforting the shivering angel in the living room.

Castiel had really not adjusted back to normality and he was afraid of going out of the bunker in case he hurt anyone again. Despite the spell being lifted, nothing you said was getting through to him.

You told him endlessly you didn't blame him and that you were mostly healed but it didn't matter. Castiel gripped the blanket like it was a lifeline and stared at the TV most of the day.

Sam and Dean were off on leads regarding Amara, tracking souless people. Sam had apparently had experience of being souless so he was the natural choice to track some down. Dean seemed hell bent on completing this mission before it completely broke him. The nightmares hadn't stopped for either of you.

With all that was going on, you barely saw Crowley.

You kept in touch with texts and short video messages but it seemed he was just as preoccupied down in Hell. You're sure there must have been a great panic about The Darkness being free again.

You wouldn't lie to yourself though and say you didn't miss him. Of course you did. Stolen kisses at 4am was not your idea of flourishing romance but it would have to make do whilst the world was potentially ending again.

“Tabitha!” a distressed voice sounds out and you rush to the source to see Castiel trembling on the staircase to the exit.

“Are you okay?!” you say in a panic, dashing up to meet him before leading him back down and sitting him in the War Room chair.

“Every time I attempt to socialise myself I see flashbacks,” the angel says bitterly, huddling in his coat. “I keep seeing everyone I have hurt. I see myself hurting you.”

“Cas, enough,” you say softly. “It wasn't you. There is nothing to forgive.”

Castiel grips your arm tightly, “Please....please can you just forgive me anyway? It may help.”

“Alright,” you nod. “I forgive you, Cas. Now....shall I put the TV back on for you?”

“Yes that would be wise,” Castiel nods and you have to lead him back to the sofa where he ends up cuddling into the side of you.

It's strange for him to be so affectionate but you just roll with it. Maybe Cas was becoming more human these days.

“Tabitha? Thank you, truly,” the angel mumbles before pulling the blanket back over himself, shaking occasionally.

You both sit there for a while, watching inane daytime talk shows where Castiel will shout out useful additions such as 'He's not ready to be a father, Jenny' and 'Why does he stay with her when she commits adultery many times?'

It's driving you crazy by the time the afternoon rolls around. With no word from Sam and Dean, you're half wondering whether you made the right choice in staying behind.

“Look!” the angel cries out, pointing fervently.

“It's just a news report,” you say, casting your eyes up from your phone.

“Tabitha, look. Please,” Castiel implores you.

You sigh, closing down your text screen where Crowley had sent you a long string of romantic messages about how he'd like to take you to dinner and ravish you on the table afterwards. You sit up properly and look at the report.

It's a standard fight down in Omaha that turned fatal but in the reflection of one of the car windows you see it.

“Is that for real?!” you breathe.

“It's him,” Castiel says grimly. “It's Metraton.”

“Fancy a road trip?” you ask the tense angel who cracks something of a smile.

“Very much so.”

  


**  
  
  
You find the ex-Scribe setting up his own news story.

It reminded you a lot of the film _Nightcrawler_ in how precisely Metatron set up the fatal accident to seem the most camera ready. Carefully placed wallets, strategic blood...god it was sick to watch.

“How the hell did you two find me?!” Metatron snarls, whirling around and brandishing his camera. “I was just about to make bank with this footage!”

“Same way you found this,” you shrug. “We listen to police scanners too.”

Castiel pushes past and goes to heal the dying man on the floor but as he does, Metatron begins gleefully filming the endeavour.

“Forget the homicide, catching an angel on tape is _much_ more interesting,” Metatron grins.

You can tell Castiel has lost his patience because he swots the camera away where it crashes to the ground in tiny pieces. Clearly he'd had enough.

“Hey!” Metatron yells angrily. “Do you have any idea how much stuff I had to steal and then pawn to buy that thing?!”

“I don't care,” Castiel says blankly. “Picking pockets and leaving men to die...this is disappointing from you.”

“You're one to talk,” Metatron sasses back. “You served slurpees at the 7-11. I just found my calling. This is my business now.”

“Preying on human tragedy?” you sneer.

“What century are you in, lady?” Metatron rolls his eyes. “You think I'm ashamed of this? Of filming the degradation and the squalor? Reality is the greatest literature of all time and I'm capturing it for the masses. Documenting it even. The modern scribe.”

“Just zip it would you?” you huff. “We're not here for your sanctimonious rubbish.”

“So you want the Demon Tablet? Well you'll never find it,” Metatron grins.

Castiel reaches into his trench coat and produces the small slab of stone before pocketing it again, “Really? Underneath the mattress in your room? I expected better.”

“You broke into my house?!” Metatron says, offended.

“What do you know about The Darkness?” you say, keen to get the topic back on track.

“What, the hair metal band?” Metatron says with attitude but upon Castiel advancing upon him he changes his tone. “Alright, maybe God did let slip a couple of stories when he'd had too much to drink but I'm not telling you.”

“Do you forget you're human now and I could crush you like an insect?” Castiel growls, delivering a solid punch to the Scribe's face. “And I am the nicer option of the two of us. Tabitha has more of a grudge to bear.”

“What? Since I killed a third of your insufferable ménage a trois?” Metatron laughs which earns him another punch, sending him onto his rear on the floor. “Fine fine! No more! The Bible thumpers want their version of God to be this all benevolent creator but the truth is...he just isn't. In order to create the world, it needed sacrifice so he sealed away his very sister to bring life into the universe.”

“How do we put her back?” you say urgently.

Metatron gives you a look of almost sympathy, “You can't. Unless one of you is hiding the Power of God somewhere....there's no putting Pandora back in the box.”

  


**  
  
  
You left Metatron to stew in his own poverty after that. The sight of him scrounging to make a living was just too pathetic and you couldn't in all honesty kill him, no matter what he'd done.

Your phone had beeped and a text message from Sam appeared.

  


**Sam: Tabitha, you need to come to our location immediately. Bad news about Crowley and the Darkness.**

 

  
So now you were in a hotel, heading to the room where Sam and Dean were. Sam's message was making you nervous because it was so damn cryptic.

Had Crowley been killed? Had Crowley been captured?

You didn't even want to entertain the thought that Crowley and Amara were working together, although it was still in the back of your mind.

Another text message arrived just before you entered the room.

  


**Not Lover: I miss you darling. I have something urgent to tell you when you're free from your hunt. Know that I love you deeply.**

  


The knot in your stomach was twisting tighter now. If Crowley had something urgent to say but was suffixing that with affectionate words....nothing good was going to come from stepping into this room now.

You took a deep breath and entered to see a demon bound to a chair and two very grim Winchesters.

“How's Cas?” Sam asks, seemingly trying to stall the inevitable question you wanted to ask.

“Better,” you nod. “Got some info to tell you after this is over regarding a field trip we took.”

The brother's exchange confused glances before Dean walks over to the demon and shakes them awake.

“Alright sweetcheeks, tell us later but for now we're got a big problem,” Dean sighs.

“Set me free!” the demon pleads instantly.

“Tell us why Crowley is hiding Amara?” Dean blurts out and Sam's eyes go wide as he studies your expression.

“Don't know, don't care. Wouldn't tell you why anyway,” the demon hisses.

Shit.

This was almost the _worst_ of all the scenarios you'd thought of in your mind.

“We know she's growing up fast,” Sam tries to cut in. “We've heard she's a teenager now.”

“Demon souls do a body good,” the demon shrugs. “Little bitch kept eating my friends before Crowley put her on a diet. She didn't like that. Kids, you know? She started sneaking out and Daddy Crowley put his foot down so here I am.”

“Tell us where she is,” Dean demands.

“You want actual intel? Torture me if you want. I'm not giving you anything,” the demon smirks before he turns towards you, taking in your stricken face before winking. “Crowley only tells a few very special people his plans.”

Your feet are walking before you realise and the demonic knuckledusters make their way onto you hands as you slam your fist into his face over and over again. You just wanted him to shut up.

“Tabs!” Dean yells in alarm, pulling you backwards. “Just gank him! Don't go full tenderiser!”

He does it for you, skewering the demon who was vomiting blood presently until only the dead body remained.

“Are you...okay?” Sam asks tentatively.

“Crowley,” you hiss. “That little shit.”

You take a picture of the corpse, sending it to Crowley. No words. No accompaniments.

“He is grade A dick but we knew this,” Dean shrugs. “He can't spend more than two seconds being a good guy before he has to crawl back into that hole and betray everyone again. Honestly I'm not even surprised any more.”

“I sure am,” you growl. “We're finding out where he's keeping Amara and then he's gonna get what's coming to him.”

“That's my girl,” Dean laughs. “Still that fiery Men of Letters chick in there huh?”

“Dean,” Sam says quietly before gesturing to the exit. “Let's go.”

“Right right,” Dean says, clamping a hand on your shoulder as he passes and squeezes it gently. “Come on Tabs, let's go kick some King of Hell ass.”

You let him take the lead, looking back to the body slumped on the chair and go to riffle through it to get his cellphone.

“I'm sorry,” Sam says softly. “I didn't want it to go down this way for you.”

“I can't believe he did this again,” you murmur. “Secrets and lies...it's like dating one of you two but with added evil.”

Sam snorts at that but quickly rearranges his features into something more sympathetic, “I'm here for you. Just know that.”

“Thank you,” you reply meekly. “What a mess this is.”

“Love isn't perfect,” Sam nods wisely. “See you in the Impala when you're ready.”

He leaves you to have one last look at the room as your phone starts beeping in your pocket.

  


**Not Lover: Please Tabitha, I can explain.  
Not Lover: Answer me.  
Not Lover: I did this for us, for you. Please let me explain myself. Don't throw away what we have this easily.**

  


That last text really pisses you off and in your haste you write something back, just before getting into the car again.  
  


**Tabitha: You did that yourself when you broke my trust again. See you real soon.**

  


*

 

You worked out from the call history that this demon had been at three sites where people had lost their souls. Triangulating that back to a common point, you were now heading to the Needham Asylum with Sam and Dean.

You'd turned off your own phone ages ago. Crowley had been messaging you constantly and trying to call but you weren't in the mood. You were so damn angry and your adrenalin was spiking just thinking of all the things you wanted to say, all the things you wanted to do when you finally saw him face to face again.

You kept stealing glances at Sam who gave you sympathetic ones back. It was nice someone else knowing exactly _why_ you were so pissed off. Dean had just seemed to take it as verbatim that you'd hated Crowley for months so this was nothing new.

Gradually you pulled up to the Asylum, noting security was incredibly lax. Some basic warding and a padlock you'd find on a school locker was everything that was keeping you out.

“Arrogant son of a bitch, isn't he?” Dean grimaced, wrenching the padlock away.

“Just the worst,” you agree, readying your revolver.

Dean slides ahead first, going down the corridor to distract some demons but Sam places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from following.

“Please, don't do anything rash,” he pleads.

“Me, rash?” you scoff.

“You're exactly like Dean,” Sam raises his eyebrow. “I know you. You'll do something extremely dramatic but in a more controlled way than he would. Please just...be careful.”

“Alright,” you nod. “I'll try to be.”

You follow Dean's progress as Sam takes the opposite route, taking out demons quickly and quietly before Dean stops before a set of double doors. You immediately feel it too. It's like you can sense Amara's presence.

“I knew you'd both come,” she says from the other side of the door but the voice seems younger than what you'd dreamt of.

You push open the doors to see a teenage girl sitting on a desk, filing her nails.

“My chosen,” she smiles. “He finally brought you to me.”

“Who?” you ask.

“Crowley of course,” she giggles. “He promised me I'd get to see you and here you are. I just have to say though, I'm sorry for what I have to do now.”

“Wha-” Dean starts but is flung into a nearby mirror.

You whirl around, training your holy water gun directly at Crowley's head.

“Darling,” he says tentatively, looking at the weapon in your hand. “Put that down and let me explain. I know you're angry with me but-”

“Angry?!” you cry. “I'm furious Crowley! Once again you just thought of your damn self and how something could benefit _you_!”

“You think you can control Amara?” Dean sneers, picking himself up from the floor and brushing shards of glass off of his jacket.

“I'm helping the girl reach her full potential,” Crowley sighs, rubbing his temple.

“Helping yourself more like,” you spit. “You don't think about anyone else do you?”

“WOULD YOU JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE?!” Crowley roars, his eyes flashing red as he loses his temper. “The girl needs souls! She gets hungry! I took her in to stop the widespread destruction of the surface world! I did that for you, you stupid woman!”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Dean cries but is thrown back until he's pinned against the wall.

“Oh open your bloody eyes, Dean!” Crowley bellows. “Or are you too wrapped up in your own self loathing to see what's right in front of you?!”

“Tabs?!” Dean says, confused.

“There's nothing _to_ see,” you growl. “Not any more.”

You see Crowley's expression fall completely and Amara begins laughing hysterically.

“Even she can see through your bluffs,” Amara grins. “Pick your lovers more smartly next time Uncle Crowley or...make sure they're not smart enough to see your plans.”

“Tell me what is going on?!” Dean demands, struggling against the invisible bonds.

In your complete anger you whirl around and the words vomit from your mouth before you can catch them.

“Crowley and I have been dating for a while. It's true, it's always been true but I was too much of a coward to tell you. I made him promise to look after you. I made him promise to never betray me. I made him promise to never lie to me and I was a fucking idiot for thinking he would hold true to that.”

“You....you and him?” Dean babbles, looking completely crushed. “You were....dating?”

“I had her in all the ways you never could, you overgrown ape!” Crowley snarls, picking up the knife Dean had left on the floor. “She chose me over you and you never even knew! Poor blind Dean-”

“ENOUGH!” you yell as you come up close to Crowley, gun pointed directly at his forehead. “I won't listen to your rubbish any longer! How could I ever have believed that you loved me!”

“I do love you,” Crowley rumbles, so much pain in those words that you wonder if everything wasn't an act after all.

“This isn't love. This is lies,” you say, completely losing your composure. “Congratulations, you hurt me in the worst way you could without killing me. Take it off.”

He knows exactly what you're referring to. The little Crown mark on your hip.

“Kitten-” he pleads, tears coming to his eyes.

“Take. It. Off,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

He waves his hand and you feel the tingle where the brand used to be.

“Tabitha, please,” he implores, dropping to his knees in front of you. “I did this for you. Truly I did. I did it to keep you safe.”

“She doesn't want to hear your excuses any more,” Amara yawns, casually tossing Crowley against the wall where she breaks one of his arms. “You've upset my Chosen and proved you can't keep me safe. I have no use for you.”

The primal cry echoes in your ears and you really want to stop her from outright murdering him but you're still so angry.

Crowley tries to reach out to you but you turn your back, going to help Dean now Crowley is no longer holding him against the wall. You half expect the Winchester to reject your help but he takes your hand and hugs you tightly, glaring at the King of Hell.

“Here's the deal,” Amara says, hopping off of the desk and sauntering towards Crowley, snapping another bone as she goes. “I don't need you any more so I'll let you go on the condition you leave Dean and Tabitha alone. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Crowley grunts through the pain.

Amara releases him before aiming a disdainful sneer at the King of Hell, “Now get out of my room.”

Crowley manages to clamber to his feet, looking for you but only sees you in the arms of Dean who protectively winds them tighter around you.

“So be it,” Crowley murmurs in a tone that breaks your heart with how much defeat is in there.

He leaves, vanishing into thin air.

You let out a breath you didn't know you had before Amara approaches the both of you, stroking her hands along both of your cheeks.

“Why does this happen?” she says sweetly. “You save me, I save you...you represent the first thing in Creation I saw, my awakening. I'm fascinated by you both. My chosen. For now I shall have to leave you. It's a great wide world out there and I've not seen enough of it. Soon I'll be strong enough to do what I came back for.”

“Which is?” Dean asks tentatively.

“To settle a score,” Amara replies cagily. “The oldest score. Good bye.”

With that you're pushed out of the room into the corridor again, Dean pulling you up to your feet as you both just stare at the room in utter silence.

  


**  
  
  
The ride back is uncomfortable.

Sam isn't aware of what Crowley and you blurted out to Dean but he senses something happened. Dean doesn't even put the radio on as you drive in complete silence.

When you reach the bunker again, Dean pulls you into his room and locks the door. You bristle, half expecting a fight and you clench your fists.

Dean notices and sighs, “Put those away princess. Just wanna talk.”

“You...you do?” you say meekly.

“I should have known,” Dean says, running a hand through his short hair. “From the second we brought him into the basement I should have known he would try to get in your head and he succeeded. That douchebag has been grooming you for months hasn't he? I just...I didn't want to acknowledge it, I didn't want to see it because I thought you'd never fall for that.”

Tears start rolling down your cheeks and Dean looks alarmed as he grasps your shoulders and squeezes them both.

“Hey hey, none of that, okay? Crowley's a bastard and he's gonna pay. I'm sorry I was in denial of what was happening for so long. Maybe if I still had the Mark, yeah I woulda been angry but I get it now. Crowley's been trying to seduce you for the best part of a year and he's the greatest salesman Hell has to offer. He sold you a pipe dream with no foundation.”

“I did it willingly, Dean,” you sob, trying to control yourself. “I didn't get tricked.”

“Sweetheart, Crowley doesn't love anyone but himself,” Dean says grimly, gripping your chin so you look up at him. “You got taken for a ride and I'm gonna wipe that son of a bitch from existence for it.”

“Do you hate me?” you all but whisper. “I thought you wouldn't be able to look at me once it all came out.”

“Tabs,” Dean takes in a deep breath. “You lied to me and Sammy, yeah, but I wouldn't have been in a good place to hear it either. No I don't hate you. I hate him. I hate him for taking advantage of you and I hate him for turning you into someone who keeps secrets because you're better than that. You're better than me and Sam.”

“Guess I'm just another Winchester,” you laugh bitterly.

“You're part of our family,” Dean says, pulling you into a hug. “You didn't have to take the family traits to heart, you know?”

That earns a small genuine chuckle from you and you seen Dean is smiling.

“And yes I can still look at you because I know that you've always had our best interests. Even if you were with Crowley at the time, you've always been there, for everyone, even Cas. You're a good person who got mixed up with someone bad and I promise you, Tabs, I promise you I'll keep you safe from him.”

God your emotions were so mixed up right now.

Had Crowley really ever loved you or was this just some scheme to keep himself entertained? You didn't know what the truth was any more.

Just when you felt he'd started turning a corner and this was something deeper, he'd do something monumentally selfish or dangerous and you were reminded of exactly who he was.

The King of Hell.

That would never change.

  


**

  


Crowley sat in his chambers, his tears completely spent.

His bones had healed long ago but the ache in his very soul kept persisting.

“I've done this to myself,” he murmurs out loud to himself. “I kept secrets. I hid things. I didn't trust her with the truth and now....”

The ache intensified until he could barely breathe.

Seeing you in Dean's arms like that completely crushed him. He wanted Dean to fly off the handle, to seem like the bad guy but the bloody moron had to be the proverbial white knight and forgive you immediately. He suspected Dean was probably poisoning you against him as he lay.

“My Tabitha, my sweet Tabitha,” he mumbles, idly twirling the protection pendant he still kept of yours. “I've really fucked things this time.”

 

 


	29. From Afar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn to live without Crowley but fate likes pushing you together again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So a shorter chapter here but there's a need for establishing some character development.  
> Warnings: Some heavy ass angst  
> My email: theliveshipparagon@gmail.com / tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> I know you might have expected more fall out from the Winchesters but I firmly believe Dean is the type to bury his head in the sand with this sort of thing.  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Likely to be proofreading errors)

You awoke to find you'd accidentally slept curled up on Dean's chest.

He was breathing steadily, obviously out of it so you carefully unfurled yourself from his heavy grip before padding out of the bed.

You caught sight of Sam staring into the bedroom giving you a funny look.

“Not here,” you shook your head, leading him out to the kitchen so Dean couldn't hear.

“What's that all about?” Sam asks, very serious.

“I just fell asleep, that's all,” you shrug. “Dean's been trying to help me through the Crowley thing.”

“I'm going to say this once,” Sam starts, doing his brotherly stance. “Don't mess with Dean's feelings now you've broken up with Crowley, okay?”

You sigh, carding your hands through your hair and look up the ceiling in supplication, “God I don't know what to do Sam. He thinks Crowley groomed me and he's determined to be around me as much as possible. I don't want...I don't want anyone else to get hurt by this.”

Sam instantly softens, pulling you into a hug, “Hey I'm sorry. I'm just trying to do the right thing by my brother. He still has way too much of a crush on you and this is only going to make him try harder. Just be careful alright? I know you're upset too so maybe rely more on me than him right now.”

“Alright,” you nod before looking up at Sam with tears brimming in your eyes. “Was I...was I groomed, Sam? I don't even know what's real any more.”

Sam shushes you gently, rocking back and forth with you on the spot, “I got the feeling Crowley was genuine, Tabitha but then again, he's fooled us many times before. I'm not the best person to ask.”

You hear footsteps and know Dean has just come in. You don't make a move to pull away from Sam though.

In one swift movement, Dean's arms are circling you two and you end up losing your composure, breaking down between the both of them.

“I promise you, Tabs, I'll end him,” Dean says quietly.

“Dean,” Sam says reproachfully.

“No, don't 'Dean' me, Sammy,” Dean wrinkles his face up. “He hurt her. God knows what else he did to her. The dick doesn't deserve to live after that.”

“We may still need him to deal with Amara,” Sam points out..

Dean lets out a huff of annoyance, “The second that asshat loses his usefulness, revenge is comin' his way.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sam agrees to try and get out of the awkward conversation.

You just silently cry in between them until you're able to control yourself again.

It was a horrid feeling doubting everything Crowley had ever said to you, had ever done in your name. It wasn't like you didn't give him many chances to prove himself, made his swear oaths etc. The King of Hell, the former King of the Crossroads, was supposed to keep his promises and deals but you just found he broke those pacts without a second regard for you.

The worst part was that some part of you wanted to believe that Crowley was trying to protect you from Amara, that he was trying to make your job easier but in your heart of hearts, you just knew he'd done it for the power. Power would always come before love for him.

  


**

  
  
You spent weeks on normal cases, not hearing a single peep about Amara's whereabouts.

It was strangely comforting to get back into a normal rhythm of eat, sleep, hunt, drink. You were starting to adopt Dean's bar habits quite badly these days and even though Sam gave you reproachful looks, he couldn't really say anything when it was helping your mood a lot.

Crowley never contacted you once in all that time.

You had your suspicions he was still around. Occasionally you caught the scent of his cologne in your room. Sometimes you'd awake in the night to see the fading glow of red eyes. More recently you'd catch movement of a overcoat just at the corner of your vision.

He was definitely still keep tracks on you but he never approached you or said anything.

It made it a lot easier to process what had happened in a way and as the weeks went on, you could push Crowley to the back of your mind whilst you got on with your job.

A knock at your door startled you one particular morning when you were examining the fact your perfume bottles had moved.

“Christ!” you exclaim, hand over your heart to see Sam awkwardly shuffling.

“Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just think Crowley's been in my perfume,” you grumble.

“Makes a change from his cologne I guess,” Sam smiles. “Listen, I wanna run something by you rather than Dean first if that's cool?”

“Sure, go ahead,” you nod, sitting on the end of your bed.

“Promise you won't laugh but...this whole Darkness situation...I've been praying,” he starts with a long sigh, seemingly expecting you to rip into him about it.

“Try anything right?” you shrug. “I'm guessing something happened?”

Sam looks a little more relieved now and carries on with more vigour, “I had a vision...of Lucifer in the cage and then a burning bush. I asked for a way to defeat the Darkness and...I think God showed me.”

“You think you need to spring Lucifer?” you ask confused.

“Well what else?” Sam raises his hands.

“Why not just get Michael?” you muse. “Surely it would be better than Lucifer? Lucifer would probably _side_ with the Darkness.”

“You see, I think Lucifer wouldn't want the end of existence because that means the end for him too and his self preservation streak is too high,” Sam reasons.

“I don't like it,” you shake your head. “Feels like a lot can go wrong.”

“Going wrong is our speciality,” Dean snorts from the doorway. “What are we screwing up this time?”

“The cage,” Sam answers. “I prayed to God and had visions of Lucifer. I think we have to free him.”

“Now that is a horrible idea,” Dean grimaces.

“What other ones have we got?” Sam sighs.

“It's Lucifer,” Dean hisses. “The biggest monster out there....ah fan-freakin'-tastic.”

“Look, Lucifer, in this vision, he touched me and I felt calm Dean. I felt like everything was going to be okay. Believe me when I say the last thing my brain would be making up is that.”

“Maybe there is something in it, maybe there isn't,” you run a hand through your hair. “This could all be one giant trap.”

“I'm with princess over there,” Dean points. “Nothing good ever comes from Lucifer.”

“But doesn't it make sense?” Sam tries to explain. “Lucifer was there when the Darkness was defeated.”

“Tabs?” Dean asks the silent question.

“I'm not happy about it but we've got jack all else,” you grit your jaw.

“You know this means you're going to have to run into King Dickbag again, right?” Dean says warily. “He's the only one who can get us to the Cage.”

“You can stay if you want to,” Sam says gently. “We're not forcing you to come with on this one.”

“I can't hide away forever,” you say. “The world is going to end.”

“I'll keep you away from him,” Dean announces. “He won't hurt you any more.”

Internally you're groaning. Dean had gone uber white knight in the past few weeks, pledging to do anything and everything for you. It's like he was in extreme denial that you'd entered into a relationship with Crowley of your own accord...well at least you think you did.

“Team Free Will,” Sam smiles.

“Then buckle up boys,” you say, standing up off the bed. “I've got an extremely awkward conversation ahead of me.”

  


**

  
  
Crowley agreed to meet you all under a bridge some towns out.

When your eyes locked onto his, everything in your stomach flipped. You thought you'd be okay but somehow you just felt overwhelming sadness.

“Boys,” Crowley nods before only acknowledging you with a curt tip of the head. “So...God gave you a vision, Moose? I'd say you were making it up but you're not that imaginative.”

“We're not saying this is happening,” Dean says firmly. “We just wanna know if it's possible.”

“The Cage is a can of worms I don't wish to open,” Crowley says gruffly. “This conversation is over.”

He moves to start clicking his fingers but you step forward.

“I don't think it is,” you interject. “Amara's made it clear she's got a vendetta against you. How long until she realises she can get rid of you entirely?”

Crowley swallows thickly, “Why do you care? You're her ' _chosen_ ' after all.”

“I don't care,” you say bluntly and you see a minute twinge of hurt on Crowley's face. “But _you_ should. It's your life and your Kingdom on the line.”

“Look, she's God's sister,” Dean adds. “One puny King of Hell is not gonna stand a chance.”

“God's sister?” Crowley's eyebrows shoot up. “I had that kind of leverage and I let it slip away...”

“How about we focus on something that _isn't_ power related or are you incapable of that?” you say savagely and even the brothers look alarmed by your viciousness.

Crowley coughs awkwardly, “Very well. I'm listening.”

“Get Sam in the Cage,” you demand. “Then you don't have to open it.”

“Tabs, that's not a great idea,” Dean murmurs next to you.

“Actually I was going to suggest it myself,” Sam says.

“There might be a way,” Crowley muses. “Clearly if Sam enters the Cage as is, he's gone. It may be on my bucket list to get rid of a Winchester but I'll put aside my selfish needs to neutralise Lucifer's powers."

“You can do that?” Sam blinks.

“Is it possible to keep him safe?” Dean adds. “Because if it's not, it ain't happening.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, “Oh goodness, do calm down Mummy Dearest. Theoretically it's possible but the only way to get those spells is from the Book of the Damned. Appears I'll have to contact my own mother to make that happen.”

“Do it,” Dean orders.

Crowley seems to give you an odd lingering look which is caught by the older Winchester.

“Hey hey, enough of that!” Dean growls. “Haven't you done enough to her?”

“Do you want my help or not Dean?” Crowley hisses back. “Allow me to be somewhat heartbroken here.”

“Oh that's rich,” Dean sneers. “You don't have a frickin' heart! You just manipulated hers you sick bastard!”

“Is that what she told you?” Crowley's eyes bore into your own, searching for the truth.

“She didn't need to,” Dean moves slightly in front of you. “You made that pretty clear in your words and actions.”

“Assuming makes an ass out of you,” Crowley parrots the phrase. “Contrary to what you think Dean, I really _did_ care and it's that reason alone that I'll help.”

“I don't care what reason it is, as long as it gets done,” Dean says. “But stay away from her.”

“Already have been, in case you haven't noticed, you wannabe Lancelot,” Crowley huffs.

_Liar. You've been in my room many times when you think I'm sleeping._

You watch as Crowley rapidly turns his head in your direction before flustering.

“Non pleasure as always boys. I'll get back to you on the Cage scenario.”

He quickly disappears and you let out the breath you've been holding.

“Smooth Dean,” Sam sighs.

“I'm not letting him worm his way back into her life,” Dean says firmly. “No freakin' way. She's not listening to that snake oil salesman any more.”

“ _She_ is still right here,” you say pointedly. “Come on, let's get back. I'm in desperate need of a whisky.”

“Speaking my language, sweetheart,” Dean grins.

You exchange harried glances with Sam before just surrendering to the fact that this was marginally less awkward than you thought it was going to be.

“ _I really did care.”_

You replay that over and over in your mind all the way back to the bunker.  
  
  


**

  
  
The second Crowley saw you, everything inside him clenched.

Damn, why did you look so delectable?! Singledom seemed to have given you more of an urge to train and Crowley could see the feminine muscles looking taut underneath your tight t-shirt. He would love to explore how they rippled when he took you.

He could sense the jumble of thoughts immediately. You were always a strong projector, ever since he'd had your blood he could just sense the gnarled tendrils of ideas whirling in your brain.

You were anxious, sad and...a little wistful.

That certainly gave Crowley some hope. You'd not completely forgotten him. Maybe he could still turn this around.

He believed that right up until the point he mentioned the leverage of keeping Amara. That seemed to incense you to no end and Crowley realised exactly what you thought of him.

_You think I only care for power above all. Oh my sweet kitten, I really did give up so much for you that you never even realised._

He wished he'd communicated that fact a bit more but....it was too late now.

The sole solace he could take was that he knew you'd not run into Dean's arms. He could discern that at least. The wayward hunter certainly was trying to present himself as an option but you'd not taken him up on it.

Another quick scan told him you'd not gone for Sam either, though that was more unlikely.

_I would totally deserve it if you had._

Then something shook him. You clearly thought _at_ him, a sentence ringing loud and clear that you knew he was still following you.

_Bollocks._

He hadn't meant to be so obvious.

Losing you was hard. The first real time in centuries that he'd held tangible love and let it slip through his fingers due to his own incompetence. Of course he was going to watch over you still.

He still cared.

He didn't want to see you hurt. He hated watching you cry yourself to sleep in those first couple of weeks, hated how dependant you became on alcohol and reckless hunting, hated how much you relied on Sam and Dean to get you through.

He couldn't take it. He needed to get out of there quickly before he bared his soul to Dean who was deliberately trying to goad him.

With one click of his fingers he was in Hell again, nestling into his throne and playing with your pendant like he'd done so many times before.

“Your Majesty?” his new assistant asked. “How was your meeting?”

“Fruitful,” is all Crowley would answer.

“And your...Queen?” the demon asked tentatively, sensing Crowley was not in a good mood.

Of course Crowley had not divulged to his Kingdom that you'd rejected him. He wasn't about to take that humiliation head on.

“Thankfully still not wearing plaid,” Crowley quips, defaulting to humour. “Now, I need you to find my mother.”

“Your mother, your Majesty?” the demon squeaked.

“It's a matter of life and existence,” Crowley didn't elaborate, waving his assistant away.

He paused for a time, lounging in his throne, sipping his Craig and pondering.

Just how could he win you back?

The answer was unfortunately something he didn't like entertaining.

_I need to play the hero again. Be on the side of good. Bloody hell, the things I do for love...._  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pressure but if you wanna help a girl out with these epic long fics and keep me hydrated in this awfully sticky weather in the UK right now my Ko-Fi link is : https://ko-fi.com/theliveshipparagon


	30. The Devil's Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You team up with Crowley and Rowena to see if Sam's plan to spring Lucifer will actually work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks!  
> I'm back with another shorter chapter but the last one would've been way too long otherwise.  
> Expect some angst!  
> Any comments/messages etc my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com / Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> Enjoy!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Proof reading errors ahoy)

You met with Crowley again, the exchange a little less charged this time.

He'd brought Rowena to speak to you and the brothers and she was seemingly uncomfortable with the whole affair.

“Can this really be true?” she muses. “God's sister? We would've been burned at the stake long ago for even thinking such a thing.”

“Do you see, mother, the need for urgency now?” Crowley sighs, folding his arms.

“Well if this is so pivotal, what's in it for me?” Rowena huffs, accidentally mirroring her son's gestures before she realises and shakes her hands out to both sides.

“You mean other than your life?” Dean snorts.

“Threats eh?” Rowena raises a pencilled eyebrow.

“He means The Darkness wants to destroy everything,” you jump in. “As in not even a scrap of matter left in the universe kind of everything.”

She stares at you for a time, weighing her options before she finally lets out an enormous bluster, “I'll need the codex of course.”

“You'll get supervised access,” Sam says firmly.

“We need to know how to get Sam in the cage and then protect him while he's in there,” Dean presses.

“What is in this bloody cage that's so dangerous?” Rowena rolls her eyes.

“Lucifer,” you say bluntly.

Whatever the witch was expecting, you're pretty sure she wasn't expecting _that_. Her eyes go wide before she tries to cover it up with a fake smile.

“Lucifer...as in the original Dark Prince?” she asks coyly.

“No mother, as in the cat from Cinderella,” Crowley sighs. “Of course the bloody Prince of Darkness!”

“Alright! No need for such sarcasm,” Rowena pulls a face. “Well boys and girls, let's get to it.”

 

**

  
  
Dean was chasing up the first real Amara lead you'd had in a long time. He'd insisted you stay behind in case anything happen to him and also to protect Sam.

You didn't argue but that didn't mean you weren't acutely uncomfortable being around Rowena again, especially since you weren't with her son any more. She didn't need to know that Crowley could be exploited again.

_God, why do I even care?_

It still pulled at your soul to physically see Crowley. That small meeting you just had...sure it was less tense but the longing was eating you alive.

This surely had to be a really toxic way of thinking, to want to go back to someone who continually lied and betrayed your trust. Even after so many weeks you were still romanticising the good times rather than focusing on why you'd ended it in the first place.

_What the hell is wrong with me? I'm so broken._

The anger and the rage had long since subsided and now you were kind of left with this hollow feeling. You prided yourself at least that you'd stayed away from that old adage of 'getting under someone else to get over someone'. You just weren't that kind of person any more.

Crowley had truly ruined you in a lot of ways.

_Maybe because he was the first person whom I ever saw as an equal, a rival, a true partner._

A knock at the door breaks you out of your spiralling thoughts and you see Sam poke his head in.

“We need to get to Hell, Crowley is coming in a sec. Get ready, we're going to spring Lucifer.”

“On it. Give me one minute,” you nod and grab some clothes.

You didn't really plan it but you ended up putting on some tight fitting black trousers and a top that just barely zipped up over your chest. You guessed on some level you wanted to look good on your Hell trip. Oh well, at least you could move easily in it still.

You walk out into the War Room where the rest of your merry band is gathered. Crowley's taking a sip of his Craig whilst waiting until his eyes fall on you and he starts to choke, liquid falling back into the tumbler. That causes everyone else to whirl around and spot you.

“Um...okay?” Sam blinks.

“Good lord!” Rowena exclaims. “Are you going to try and _seduce_ Lucifer to get him out of the cage? Is that what the outfit is about?”

“Might sweeten the deal,” you shrug. “He's hardly going to be amiable to the idea of working with us.”

“That's a very dangerous game, kitten,” Crowley notes, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

_He still calls me kitten...even now....does he actually care? Did he always care?_

“Not any more dangerous than the former designated vessel going into the cage with him right?” Sam points out. “At this point I'll use all the resources available to us.”

“She's not a resource, Moose,” Crowley glowers.

“No, she's perfectly capable of making up her own mind what she wants to do and with _who_ ,” Sam shot back and you're surprised how fiercely he's defending you.

Even Crowley seems taken aback because he shuts up pretty quickly after that.

“Well?” Rowena huffs. “Are we going to stand around admonishing clothing choices like disappointed parents or are we actually going to do this thing?”

“Quite,” Crowley nods. “Take hold.”

Rowena wends her arm around Crowley's neck, Sam takes his left hand which leaves you to take his right. You hesitate for a split second before placing your hand in the King of Hell's.

Shit, it was so familiar. Your fingers even curled into his without meaning to.

As you reappeared in Hell, Crowley gave you a look like he was searching for something in your eyes. Reflexively his fingers squeezed yours a little until you pulled away sharply, shaking your head to clear the idiotic thoughts storming inside your mind.

“This way,” Crowley says, taking a torch from a bracket on the wall and going down a long corridor.

As you got further into the corridor, the air above you changed. It seemed like a storm was raging but never fully broke through the clouds. Occasional flashes of lightning sparked but it cast a red corona in its wake.

“This is...different,” you remark, unable to help yourself.

“This is Limbo, where I send unruly souls for a timeout,” Crowley explains, winking at you. “Be good now Tabitha.”

“Hey, stop that,” Sam warns. “Don't flirt with her.”

“My apologies,” comes the stilted reply.

_As if you could put me in a time out_

You watch his back stiffen as he hears the direct thought and turns briefly, the red haze settling in his eyes before they fade back to brown. He purposefully waits until Sam walks in front, setting the pace and drops back so he can walk next to you and briefly leans over.

“Don't taunt me with what I cannot have,” he says seriously. “I never took you for a cruel woman. Don't start now. Leave me with the image of this kind, sweet girl who let a monster attempt to love her.”

“You're not a monster,” you whisper. “You're more human than you realise.”

“I _am_ a monster, darling,” he sighs, keeping his tone low so Sam and Rowena don't hear. “I never deserved your affections. You were right, the lure of power _is_ too much for me because I've never had something worth putting above that desire...until recently. Now I realise when it is much too late. My promises are worthless and I am truly beyond redemption if even a pure creature like yourself cannot change my nature.”

“I'm pretty sure you never would've attempted to sacrifice yourself for someone even _five_ years ago,” you point out. “You've changed more than you know.”

“Perhaps,” Crowley mumbles. “But not enough. You need to forget about me, pet. I'm not worthy of you. You need....one of the good guys.”

“Don't tell me what I need,” you hiss. “I make my own choices.”

Crowley smiles slightly, “You always were headstrong. I loved that about you.”

“Why are you lagging behind?” Rowena turns around. “Stop chatting up the lass and do what we came here to, Fergus.”

Sam jerks around in alarm, “You're supposed to be leading. Get up here.”

“Such a conversation killer aren't you, Samantha?” Crowley rolls his eyes before picking up his pace again.

You come to an opening where stairs lead down to a stone platform. On the platform stands an empty cage. Rowena sets to her work, painting sigils on the bars.

“Makes your flesh crawl doesn't it, Moose?” Crowley remarks, looking at Sam's fearful expression. “I get it. I'm the King of this place and it's still not my cup of tea.”

“I don't know Crowley, suits you,” Sam shrugs, making his expression blank. “Dark and empty inside.”

“Fascinating the utter contempt whilst I'm in the middle of saving the Winchester's bacon, _again_.”

“The point is to save _everyone's_ bacon, including yours,” you remind him.

Rowena begins chanting and the sigils start lighting up. Fires spring to life, surrounding the cage and licking at the bars. A crash of hefty lightning roars above.

“It begins,” Crowley mutters, eyes aflame.

You stare intently at the cage until your vision catches the soft glow of two red eyes, just watching. That had to be him. Lucifer.

The eyes slowly burn out into darkness as the figure approaches the edge of the bars and you're....underwhelmed. Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness, the first to fall....he just looked like an average American bachelor.

“Crowley, my old friend,” Lucifer smiles.

“A mere acolyte, carrying your torch,” Crowley bows ostentatiously.

“Oh you're being too kind,” Lucifer flops his hand in a dismissive gesture. “To yourself.”

He scans the room, ignoring the fawning Rowena until he spots Sam to the left of you.

“Sam! My old roomie! Hug it out?” he pouts for dramatic effect.

You still weren't quite associating this being before you with the embodiment of pure evil. That charming face was just not screaming 'devil' at you.

“Am I up for parole? Time off for bad behaviour?” Lucifer continues. “I don't get many visitors.”

“There's a crisis top-side,” Sam starts.

“Crisis huh?” Lucifer muses, rubbing his face against the bars in an obnoxious way.

“You're aware of The Darkness?” Sam continues.

“Yikes, that's a blast from the past. I'm aware but it was eons ago,” Lucifer shrugs innocently.

“She's out. She's on earth.”

“I wonder how that happened...”

God Lucifer was an arse. You could tell the thinly veiled barbs and the sarcasm disguised as sweet words.

“Soooo....where's the big burrito in all this? Where's God?”

“No idea,” Sam admits. “But he suggested something to me. To seek you out.”

Lucifer starts laughing, “Get outta town. Me? Seriously? Who'd have thunk it? Well you can't ignore God right? He says jump, you say how high?”

“You're on board?” Sam asks.

“Wellllll I did help ol' Dad seal the Darkness back up all those years ago. See now, I need a ride. I mean, I look swell in here and everything but I'd be so much more smoking topside.”

“You want a vessel,” Sam nods, understanding where this was going.

“One strong enough to handle me, that's handy and available now. Get the drift?” Lucifer smirks.

“Did you really expect me to agree?” Sam scoffs.

“I know, I know. It sucks but desperate times right?” Lucifer shrugs beningly.

“That's not desperate, that's certifiable.” you chime in, unable to contain yourself in this exchange any longer.

“Oh, the little minx over there has a tongue after all. Was wondering when you'd speak up, sweetcheeks,” Lucifer laughs. “Don't tell me you have a girlfriend now, Sam. Look, if you agree to be my vessel, I promise to keep my hands off of her and that's a very big thing of me to do because I mean...come on.”

He gestures to your clothing before pursing his lips into a kiss and winking at you.

“Stop that,” Sam says firmly at the exact same time Crowley snarls, “Don't you dare.”

“Ohhhhh,” Lucifer grins. “Well this got more interesting. Got yourself a couple of boy toys there little lady. I bet they dance to your tune somethin' fierce!”

Sam just stares with hatred whilst you notice Crowley's eyes are completely red as he fights to keep his anger in check.

“I'm just kidding!” Lucifer breaks out into peals of laughter. “Man, can't an angel have a sense of humour? Look Sam, why do you think God sent you to me? To get my help. You can't say no to the Word of God, no matter how much of a dick you think I am.”

“I won't do it,” Sam says firmly. “There has to be another way.”

You start noticing the flames have gotten a little lower. No...it wasn't _just_ that. The sigils were dying too.

“What the hell is going on?” you hear Crowley behind you.

“Follow me, Fergus,” Rowena says in a hushed tone.

“I bloody well will not. Tell me what is happening, mother,” Crowley hisses.

“Nothing good for _them_ ,” Rowena chuckles.

“TABITHA! RUN!” Crowley bellows, terror evident in his face.

You look at him just as Rowena teleports him out of sight, his hand outstretched to you.

“Shit,” you breathe, turning around, only....

You weren't outside the cage any more. You were _in it_.

“Hey Sammy, did you miss me? I bet you did,” Lucifer smiles, leaning back against the bars. “I gotta say, you're pretty calm right now given the circumstances.”

“This is how God said it had to be. I'll have to go with it,” Sam says determinedly.

As Lucifer chuckles darkly and rubs his stubbled chin you come to the horrible realisation.

“Sam...it wasn't God,” you murmur, backing him up into the corner with you protecting him. “It was _him_.”

“Clever girl,” Lucifer wags a finger at you. “I can see why the Winchesters are on side with you. She's right, Sam. When the Darkness came back, the impact on Hell was massive. The cage was damaged and through those fissures I reached out to you. It wasn't God inside your head. It was _me_.”

You feel Sam shaking behind you and press yourself to him more firmly, trying to give him some comfort. Lucifer stalks up and down in front of you both, assessing.

“God's not with you. He's _never_ been with you. It's always been me. I'm your only hope. Say yes.”

“Not gonna happen,” Sam says in a thin voice.

“Ah well, settle in guys. Room service is kinda bad but we'll make do, right?” Lucifer grins.

How was this happening?! Your only explanation was the cracks in the cage had somehow rendered Rowena's defences inert....unless she planned it this way.

“I'll _never_ say yes,” Sam spits, standing up a little straighter behind you.

“Ah geez,” Lucifer sighs before grasping you and whirling you around so he's stood behind you, one hand around your throat and the other around your waist. “Can't we all just get along? If you keep saying no, we're gonna have to learn to be roomies for a very long time.”

“Let her go!” Sam yells.

“Oh please,” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “She's dressed for attention, I'm just giving her some. I'm _appreciating_. Clever _and_ hot. Shame you don't have designs on this one.”

“She's my friend,” Sam growls. “Get. Off. Her.”

It's like you're paralysed. For all your thought track about Lucifer seeming unimpressive, being crushed against him was terrifying. You could feel the power radiating off of him and the way his fingers curled slightly against your throat, cutting off the oxygen slightly, it was all a power play.

You finally got how dangerous he was.

“Oh baby, I wouldn't harm you,” Lucifer drawls into your ear. “I'd want to _enjoy_ you.”

“You even _think_ about that and I'll end my life and leave you to the Darkness,” Sam says viciously, finally taking a stand and moving forward, legs coiled ready to spring.

“Sam...come on. Do you really think I'd do that?” Lucifer pouts. “I'm _all_ about consent. I want her, sure but I'd want her to want me back....and trust me, she'll come to me in the end. They all do.”

He releases you and you fly into Sam's arms, completely trembling. Sam bundles you into the corner of the cage once more whilst Lucifer strolls to the other side and sits down.

“Get comfy,” Lucifer gestures. “I hope you enjoy your stay at Chez Lucifer.”

  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Crowley confession in the corridor though right?


	31. Sympathy for the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tries to break you into saying yes whilst Crowley starts an unlikely team up with Dean to save you and Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, did I have fun writing this one!  
> Lucifer's such an interesting character and now marks the second Lucifer I've written for (the other being the Neil Gaiman version)  
> My contact details if you want them:  
> Email: theliveshipparagon@gmail.com  
> Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> I've currently thrown up 5 new fic ideas on my Tumblr if you want to go check them out because some of my current fics will be winding down soon. Currently the Mad Sweeney idea is in the lead.  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)

 

“So it was all you,” Sam mumbles to the archangel sitting casually in the corner of the Cage.

“Impressive, right?” Lucifer shoots up two eyebrows in mirth.

“Just tell me one thing,” you demand. “Was Rowena in on it?”

“Groupies,” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Always so eager to jump to attention. Come on, you're a smart girl. I bet you'd already figured out she was on my side.”

“If I ever get out of here I'll kill that sycophantic bitch,” you hiss to Sam.

“Ooo I like that,” Lucifer winks at you. “You've got fire! Sat in the Cage with the Devil and all you can think about is petty revenge rather than how I'm going to break you.”

“Do your worst,” you spit bravely, though in truth, you felt anything _but_ brave.

You were antagonising Lucifer for sure but if you could just keep the attention off of Sam then it was worth it. If Lucifer took control of your friend, it was game over. You would rather die than let that happen.

“I love a good challenge,” Lucifer claps his hands together gleefully.

“Torture won't work,” you feign boredom.

“Oh cupcake, torture is soooo five years ago for me,” Lucifer stands up. “I'd much rather make you scream in a different way.”

“STOP TALKING LIKE THAT ABOUT HER!” Sam bellows. “You need me right?! Well you're not winning me over by threatening her like that.”

“Sam...such a party pooper,” Lucifer sighs with a slight smirk. “You know what? I want a private conversation with her so you can go to sleep now.”

In quicker movements than your eyes registered, Lucifer was pressing his fingers to Sam's forehead and the Winchester dropped to the floor of the Cage like a sack of potatoes.

“Now,” Lucifer coos. “Let's see what's gonna make you break.”

You flinched away from those fingers until you had nowhere left to back up to. The second you felt that surprisingly cold touch, the world around you melted into something familiar with _someone_ familiar.

“Crowley?”

**

“YOU'RE DEAD!” Crowley raged, flinging the table at his mother where it clipped her on the side of the face, knocking her to the ground.

“Enough with your idle threats and mindless violence, Fergus,” the witch hissed from the floor.

Crowley didn't reply but merely strode across the room and picked her up by her scrawny neck, slamming her back into the wall and squeezing hard.

“You betrayed me!” he growls. “You put my Tabitha in danger, in my own bloody kingdom no less!”

“Not your kingdom, _his_ ,” Rowena smiles brightly. “Go on, hurt me. I'm his right hand woman, see what he does to you.”

“He will _never_ get out of that cell,” Crowley snarls.

“So sure about that?” Rowena manages to spurt out around the constricting hand. “Sure your little human pet won't be broken beyond recognition? Sam might not say yes but what if _she_ does?”

That sent a cold wave of dread running through him. The possibility that you might offer up yourself as a vessel to save Sam seemed like a frighteningly real prospect at this time. If that happened, he would lose you forever. He didn't even know if your body was strong enough to hold an archangel.

“How long have you been working for him, mother?” Crowley demands, loosening his grip slightly.

“He came to me a dream,” she says wistfully.

“So you let a big strong man boss you about?” Crowley sneers in contempt. “What happened to your super-duper awesome coven? #girlpower?”

“Lucifer is perfection,” Rowena answers, starry eyed. “If Lucifer ascends and defeats the Darkness I'll be his Queen.”

“So you sacrificed my true love for power?” Crowley finally understood. “Know this, mother. When I get her back, and I will, I'll bury you in the Mariana Trench in chains, forever drowning. For now, this will have to do.”

He clicks his fingers, twisting his hands and both of Rowena's wrists shatter, the splintering of bone echoing in the chamber along with her screams.

“Can't have you doing complex magic now, can I?” Crowley glowers before summoning chains to bind her to the wall. “And the only reason I haven't started your eternal torture is you have usefulness...for now.”

“Oh son,” Rowena says through the pain. “When Lucifer reigns supreme, you'll regret your little infatuation with her.”

“It's not infatuation, mother,” Crowley says simply, turning to give her one last glance. “It's love.”

With that, he vanishes, reappearing in a place that he wasn't technically supposed to go anywhere near.

He walked up to the War Room of the Bunker, knocking courteously on the entrance door to see Dean frantically turn around.

“I'm the last person you want to speak to Dean but it's urgent,” Crowley says, setting aside his pride and ego. “Tabitha and Sam are in trapped in the Cage. I need your help.”

**

“Darling,” Crowley says to you and you're sure at this point you've gone mad.

How can Crowley be in the Cage with you but Sam and Lucifer have disappeared? Was this all an elaborate trick? Was Lucifer pretending to _be_ Crowley?

“Oh no, babycakes, I'm right here,” Lucifer says from next to your ear causing you to jump. “Well well well, who woulda guessed huh? One of the big bad hunters of this world and all you want from life is this miserable upstart.”

“Don't call him that,” you snap without thinking to find Lucifer grinning heavily at you.

“You dooooo,” he says in a sing song voice. “You like a bad boy, don't you? You like the secrets and the mystery and the _danger_.”

The projection...illusion...whatever it was of Crowley gave you that deviant smirk that always signalled when he wanted you. How could Lucifer possibly get that detail so finely?

Suddenly Lucifer was circling you, making little touches here and there to your bare skin as he passed, studying you with those intense eyes.

“Is the Devil _too much_ danger for you?” he says knowingly. “Because I'm not as bad as everyone says but plenty bad for you if you want me to be.”

“It's not gonna happen,” you say firmly.

“You don't think I'm pretty enough?” Lucifer pouts dramatically. “Aww, you're hurting my feelings here. Hmm...no it isn't that, is it? You _do_ find this vessel attractive but...oh! It's _me_ you don't like! How silly of me!”

This was the exact point you realised he was completely in your head and you needed to silence any stray thoughts. The second he'd made reference to his appearance, your mind couldn't help but assess his attractiveness and he'd clearly known that.

Shit. What the hell were you going to do?!

“You're getting it,” Lucifer chuckles. “Takes most people a while to be honest. I'm just rootin' around your little nugget there trying to see what you value. Kinda surprised to see Ol' Crowley there considering you didn't look on the best of terms when I arrived.”

“We weren't,” you lie. “So I don't exactly know what this is all about.”

Lucifer starts clapping sarcastically, “Bravo for trying to lie to the Prince of Lies but...oh sweetheart, you're just not that good. Tell you what. I'll leave you in this little bizarro world until you feel ready to talk to me.”

With that, he disappears but not before he taps your head making you fall into a deep sleep.

**

“Tabitha!” Crowley urgently shakes you. “Tabitha please! We don't have much time!”

You wake up with a start, gripping onto the front of his suit like a child as he frantically pulls you to your feet.

“We have to go, kitten. He'll realise at any moment.”

Crowley waves his hand and part of the Cage melts away. You look round for Sam but discover he's waiting at the top of the viewing platform.

You waste no time in bolting out of there, holding Crowley's hand in a vice grip as you run for dear life down the various corridors of Limbo until you reach a small...meeting room it seems.

“You came back for me,” you whisper to him. “You could've just left me.”

He only answers with a warm smile and strokes your hair gently before leading you through another set of doors along with Sam.

This was when your heart dropped.

Rowena was standing beside what you could only describe as an altar, sacrificial knife in hand.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, suddenly afraid.

“Ah you see now...can't have Lucifer vying for my throne. With you two in that Cage you were bound to acquiesces to his demands so I sprung you both to help me get rid of him once and for all,” Crowley says with an unreadable expression.

“And how do we do that?” you're almost muttering now, disturbed at the lack of emotion on his face.

“With a great sacrifice of two good souls,” he says simply before he clicks his fingers and you and Sam are both tied up on the altar.

“Are you serious?!” you yell. “You're going to kill me to stop Lucifer?!”

“Oh pet. We had some fun times but maybe you shouldn't have abandoned me,” Crowley smirks. “I might have chosen another in your place then.”

Rowena steps up beside the table, muttering some ancient language and you start full on panicking, squirming against the bonds.

“CROWLEY!” you scream. “Don't do this! Please!”

He does nothing but trail his fingers down your thigh, wistfully sighing.

“You brought this on yourself, darling,” he says. “I will miss you for a time.”

A sickening impact assaulted your ears and something hot sprayed across your face. You knew instantly by the copper smell that it was blood. Turning your face, you saw Sam with his throat wide open, shaking in his death throes.

“NO!” you bellow, fighting harder against the restraints. “How could you?! You monster!”

“I told you loud and clear that is what I am,” Crowley muses, circling the altar. “Too bad you didn't want to listen. You played with hellfire and got burnt.”

Rowena raises the dagger over you and you think this is it.

The blow never comes.

You watch as she's flung into the corner of the room, her neck breaking as she hits the stonework at an awkward angle. Her body just slumps immediately.

“You don't touch her,” comes the voice of Lucifer from the doorway.

“Spell's almost finished, Lucy boy,” Crowley quirks an eyebrow. “All I have to do is...”

He produces a dagger from his overcoat, charging for you but in the blink of an eye, Lucifer has him by the throat. He dangles the King of Hell above the ground like he weighed nothing.

“You. Don't. Touch. Her,” Lucifer repeats more forcefully. “That's all I said and you couldn't follow that one little instruction. Now you'll pay the price.”

With that, Lucifer smited Crowley, the soul igniting and flashing within his vessel's body until it went limp and Lucifer dropped it to the floor.

He's on you in seconds, untying you, checking over you to see if you're injured, though you don't know why.

“You might not believe this but...sorry about Sam,” he hesitates, looking at the dead body of your friend.

“I believe you're sorry you couldn't possess him,” you spit back, unwilling to feel anything other than fear and hatred for the archangel whilst burying your feelings of utter grief over Sam.

“Guess I deserve that,” Lucifer smiles slightly. “Come on. I'll get you topside to Dean.”

“Why are you being so nice to me now?” you ask suspiciously, sitting up and keep a conscious distance away.

“Look, I only wanted to get out of the Cage,” Lucifer holds his hands out. “After that, not really got a plan. World domination is kinda old hat, right? I just wanted freedom, sweetheart.”

He holds out his hand for you to take but you just look at it.

“I get it, you still think I'm a Big Bad,” he says knowingly. “Really all I am is a rebellious teenager in your terms. Can you really begrudge me wanting my Dad's attention?”

“When you almost started the apocalypse, yes,” you answer, still not taking his hand.

“And what do you think I really wanted?” Lucifer lowers his arm, coming to sit on the altar next to you. “Sure subjugating this world would've been easy but that wouldn't have gotten me anything. All it got me was my brother nagging for me eternity. Got any idea how annoying brothers are?”

“Yeah,” you spill out before you could stop yourself.

Goddamnit, you were actually engaging back with Lucifer whilst the corpse of your best friend and lover were surrounding you. What the hell were you doing?!

“So you know,” Lucifer nods. “Now imagine that until the end of time. Man, I just need a break! That's all! Come with me. Show me why I shouldn't hate the surface world so much.”

Again he extends his hand, expectantly waiting.

You weigh your options until a small niggling voice in the back of your mind speaks out.

_Is this real? Lucifer said he was leaving me in 'bizarro world' so is this actually reality right now?_

There was only one way to find out and it was a massive gamble.

You grab the knife from the floor where Rowena had dropped it and in one fluid motion, before you could second guess yourself, stabbed into your side. You felt nothing, there was no blood.

You looked up at Lucifer whose face was swimming with a mixture of anger and intrigue, maybe even admiration.

“Clever little thing, aren't you?” Lucifer mocks. “I got close though, right? Ah well, time to reset. Maybe you'll respond better to a different scenario.”

He rounds on you, boxing you into the wall before touching your forehead.

That was the first scenario where he tried to break you.

**  
  
“Did you leave them in there?!” Dean roars, grabbing a fistful of Crowley's overcoat.

“I had no choice!” Crowley bellows back. “My bitch of a mother teleported me away! Sam will be fine. Lucifer needs him so he won't kill him.”

“But Tabs?” Dean prompts.

Crowley does something very uncharacteristic of himself and chews his lip nervously, “I get the notion he'll try to break her down, make her agree on Sam's behalf to be his vessel.”

Dean's eyes widen in horror, “No freakin' way is she becoming Liz Hurley. We gotta stop this!”

“Do you see my need for urgency?” Crowley presses. “If he possesses her, her soul won't survive. I'll lose her forever.”

“Oh don't act like you care,” Dean hisses. “ _I'll_ lose her.”

“As much as I'd like to get into a pissing contest about her affections, I really don't care,” Crowley utters seriously. “Her life is in danger and she's the priority.”

“You're right,” Dean sighs, rubbing his face. “How do we do this? Get them out?”

“My mother,” Crowley answers, “We need her to slam the Devil back in his hole.”

“And we do that how?” Dean asks.

Crowley produces a contraption from his coat and waves it in the hunter's face, “She won't have a choice but to co-operate if I use this. It's a witch catcher. Swiped it from one of the reapers.”

“Let's get going then,” Dean says firmly, strapping all sorts of weapons to himself. “I'm not leaving them in there another minute.”

“For once, Dean, you and I can agree,” Crowley replies.

**  
  
You didn't know how much more of this you could take.

You were pretty sure the scenarios had run nearly into the hundreds. You'd had Crowley try to kill you, save, seduce you whilst some run throughs had the Winchester brothers betray you, abandon you etc. Even Castiel had made an appearance a couple of times.

Reality was completely screwed up in your mind and you were having an increasingly hard time discerning truth. The passage of time in Hell wasn't helping either. You couldn't tell how long this had been going on, though it felt like an age.

“Tell me something about you,” Lucifer asks curiously. “Your mental fortitude is like...wow, you know? That has to have come from somewhere.”

You'd given up doing the silent thing because he'd always just reset everything in a childish kind of way.

“Men of Letters,” you answer, staring out into the void.

“I hear the British version is kinda rough,” Lucifer breathes through his teeth. “Full on psychopath training.”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“What do they do to you?”

“Oh, physical training, torture resistance, psychotherapy...and the best part is the people you train with have to go into a Battle Royale death match at the end to see who's the most worthy. It's grand,” you sigh.

You felt like you'd internally admitted defeat at this point. You would never be able to escape him so maybe it was better to just die.

“Oh sweetheart, don't think that way,” Lucifer says, the very epitome of compassion. “Sounds like you've been through the ringer.”

“Tell me about yourself,” you parrot him which catches him offguard.

“Moi?” he points to himself. “A human wants to know about _me_ rather than believing I have pointy horns and a tail? Wow, give me a moment here, I'm stunned.”

“If you're gonna be an arsehole about it,” you mutter, curling up further into yourself.

“Now hey, come on,” Lucifer says, lying down next to you. “I'm sorry, sarcasm is my defensive tool, now ask away.”

“Why do you hate us so much?” you say in a murmur.

“I don't hate you as a species,” he loops one arm behind his head. “I hate what you represent.”

“God's love?”

“Bingo,” Lucifer nods. “Dear ol' Dad replaced me and threw me on the sidelines. It's not a hate of humans per say, some of you are very enjoyable. It's more the metaphor.”

“You're just an angel with Daddy issues then,” you state.

“And you?” Lucifer props his face up on his hand. “Why Crowley? Is that some issues you're working out too?”

“I don't think so,” you answer honestly. “There's just some...raw magnetism I can't explain.”

“He carries himself well, I'll give him that much,” Lucifer muses before fixing you with a curious stare. “So why are you not some Queen of Hell then?”

“We're not together,” you shrug.

“Tell me why,” he presses.

“You could just read my memories,” you roll your eyes.

“Aww come on, we're bonding here,” Lucifer purses his lips. “It's no fun to root around your head like that.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “He lied several times about very important things so I can't trust him.”

“Eesh, men,” Lucifer wrinkles his nose. “Don't know a good thing when they got it. For the record, I'm called the Prince of Lies but I only ever speak in truths. I'd never do that to you.”

“Geez, I can't tell if you're trying to possess me as a vessel or get in my knickers,” you say bluntly, turning your head away.

“Can't a guy do both?” Lucifer chuckles. “You're a hot girl with brainpower and I know you can kick ass.”

“You'd kill me if you possessed me,” you point out. “I'm not your designated vessel.”

“Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart. I think you're strong enough,” Lucifer reaches out to you but doesn't touch you.

“Say yes,” he asks like he always does.

“No,” you answer like you always do.

“Then...” he starts before suddenly being on top of you. “Can I have a consolation prize since you're rejecting me?”

“I'm not a fucking object,” you hiss.

“You most certainly are not,” Lucifer agrees, petting your hair back. “You are...glorious. You shouldn't be a queen of this shithole. You should be queen of _all_. I can give that to, you know.”

“Thought you didn't want world domination any more?” you counter.

“You miss nothing do you?” Lucifer smiles. “Shall I whisper in your ear what the Devil _really_ wants?”

You make no movement and he lowers his face to your ear so you can feel the tickle of his stubble with every word.

“I want an heir,” he says so quietly you almost didn't catch it.

He pulls back, studying your reaction.

“You want a child?” you ask puzzled.

“And you know why? So I can be a better father than my Dad ever was, so I can have someone look at me without fear or disgust and maybe even love,” he murmurs and you see the ghost of hurt cross his face.

If he was acting, he was doing an Oscar worthy job of it, although he'd proclaimed he never told lies. Was he actually being serious?

“But what woman would ever give me that child? Knowing what I am?” he continues. “I'd have to conceal my nature and what kind of life would that be?”

Had he really broken you to make you start feeling pity for him? That's what you were feeling right now and the notion scared you a lot. Maybe he was right, maybe you _were_ bonding but you were too blithe to really see it up until now.

“And that is the Devil's greatest secret,” he says, raw emotion swimming in his eyes. He places a single finger over your lips. “Don't tell anyone now.”

“Why would you tell me anyway?” you ask. “I'm nobody to you.”

“I feel I can trust you,” Lucifer says, going back to caressing your hair.

God knows why you were still letting him lie on top of you but all your fight had gone. After so so many scenarios, you were just tired.

“What if I'm _not_ trustworthy?” you counter.

“Watching you through all these little dreams? I get the sense you are. I know enough about how you work and your character and I have to say, I get why Crowley was infatuated with you. It's....graceful the way you carry yourself, I can't explain why it draws me in like this.”

“Silvertongue,” you use the old insult.

“Truth,” Lucifer stresses. “I would never lie to you. So give me the same honour when I ask what you think of my greatest desire?”

“I think it's rational,” you say honestly. “But making a Nephilim...that's going to put a target on the child forever.”

“I'd kill anyone who tried to harm them,” Lucifer growls and you can feel the paternal instinct rolling off of him.

“Oh,” you breathe. “You're actually serious aren't you? You really _do_ want a child.”

“When will you believe me, Tabitha? I just said I wouldn't lie to you. Why would I make that up? For sympathy points?”

“Maybe,” you say sheepishly although you don't know why you're embarrassed about it.

“I'm not what every says I am,” Lucifer sighs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just inherently misunderstood.

You caught yourself looking into his sharp blues eyes and a flash of understanding passed between you both. Lucifer's face was now mere inches above you and for some reason the gap was closing and you were doing nothing.

_Were you actually going to let the Devil kiss you?_

_**_

Time in Hell moved differently, Limbo doubly so, in the Cage....well.

As Crowley was prepping to ensnare his mother with Dean, he made a mental note of how long you would've been in there.

_I've been here for five hours so that means....oh my kitten..._

Twenty five days had already passed for you, give or take. Maybe even a month.

He knew at least that you hadn't broken yet because Lucifer wasn't running rampant but just how much of your mind was left?

He used his mother's spell to find your emotions and was met with the most confusing snare of feelings he'd ever felt from you.

Fear, abject despair, pity and....attraction.

_Bollocks._

“Hey, what are you doing?” Dean asks, noticing Crowley's eyes had rolled back a little.

“Finding her emotions, checking on her mental state,” Crowley replies.

“And?” Dean prompts.

“We've got to move fast,” Crowley says darkly. “She's nearly broken.”

 


	32. Just Say Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley forces Rowena to try and slam Lucifer back in the cage before you given in but is it too late?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Seems I kinda created a Team Crowley vs Team Lucifer situation with the last chapter!  
> I'm sure this new one will be a little bit left field.  
> Email: theliveshipparagon@gmail.com  
> Tumblr: theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx

 

“Get this ruddy thing off me!” Rowena squeals.

The plan to ensnare her worked perfectly. She was so caught up in eavesdropping via hexbag on him that she never thought she could possibly be played. Now Dean was holding her tightly by the Witch Catcher device.

“I would but this _ruddy thing_ is making you my slave right now,” Crowley smirks.

“I don't know what kind of Oedipal Fifty Shades complex you have going on but-” she spits.

“Enough, mother. I don't have time,” Crowley growls. “Start the spell.”

“How long?” Dean asks viciously.

Rowena gives a great dramatic sigh, “Five minutes....providing neither of them say yes. If Lucifer gets a vessel and is anchored to Earth I'm afraid a poxy spell will do no good.”

“She won't say yes,” Crowley says, although he feels like he's trying to convince himself more than anything.

After feeling that wave of attraction, he'd regularly been checking in on your emotions and for the first time in a long time...he was frightened, well and truly terrified. He kept feeling these spikes of pity, flashes of calmness and the one that scared him the most...affection. That was in the most recent swirl of your cognisance.

_Please hold on for me, kitten._

“I want to help,” Castiel says from nowhere as he shuffles in with determination.

“Okay good, you heard me,” Dean nods. “Prepared to face him again?”

“If it means Sam and Tabitha will be safe, yes,” Castiel says grimly. “You know I would give my life.”

“You may have to,” Crowley mutters darkly.

The short conversation is interrupted by the sound of Sam screaming from the next room.

“I'm going in,” Dean panics, rushing towards the door.

“Dean wait! Bloody hell!” Crowley hisses before nodding to the angel who obviously wanted to follow. “Watch my mother!”

Side by side, Crowley and Dean barged open the door, rushing down the stairs towards the dais with the Cage. Crowley's heart just about stopped.

Lucifer was kneeling in between you and Sam, one hand on Sam's forehead, the other on yours. Sam seemed to be in abject pain, his face screwed up and all his muscles tense. You...Lucifer's face was inches from yours and you were sporting a glassy eyed expression as Lucifer moved ever closer.

Why weren't you resisting? You always put up a fight. Had he broken you that much?

“DON'T!” Crowley roars, just as the Devil's lips touch yours. “TABITHA!”

  


**  
  


You could feel the slight breath from Lucifer as he hovered above you. He'd stopped just short of kissing you, eyes searching yours with something akin to longing and uncertainty.

“Would you truly let me?” he says in a small voice.

“I...don't know,” you answer honestly, your blood pounding in your ears.

“I just...I've never opened up this much to anyone before,” he says shyly, the expression seeming odd on his vessel's face. “Embarrassing.”

“It's fine,” you assure him and there's a genuine smile on his face at your words.

“I really do like you Tabitha,” he mutters quietly, moving closer still until your noses were touching.

From here, he angled his face a little so his mouth was the barest inch away and you felt your lips part subconsciously in anticipation.

But this was crazy right? This was the being who'd been trying to break you for god knows how long into being his vessel.

“I don't want you to be my vessel,” Lucifer says.

Damn, you forgot about keeping your thoughts quiet.

“I want to find another vessel so I can do this with you, not in some construct world but in the real one,” he whispers softly. “If I could find a way to keep this one I would, for you.”

“I....” you trail off, caught up in the storm of his blue eyes as they telegraphed such insecurity and sadness.

_The complete opposite of Crowley's..._

You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't feel such a pang of heartbreak that Crowley still hadn't saved you. You'd thought coming into Limbo that he might be trying to win you back but so far, you'd just been trapped in the Cage for what felt like months. You weren't even sure if Sam was still with you or not.

“I promise I will not treat you like Crowley did,” Lucifer strokes your cheek. “You're too precious.”

“Please...stop playing with emotions,” you beg. “I can't-”

And just like that, he was kissing you.

He was kissing you and you weren't doing a thing to stop him. You were actually reciprocating his gentle movements. There was no urgency to it, no hidden lustful desire, just a kiss a long term lover would give.

He breaks away, giving you ample time to regret your decision if you wanted to as he scans your face with a worried expression. You don't though, you don't regret it. In fact, your hand rises up to cup his jaw, bringing him back to you.

You don't notice the construct world around you dissolving, you don't notice your near catatonic friend next to you, you don't notice your other friend and ex-lover enter the room.

“TABITHA!” Crowley's voice slams into your consciousness

You jerk away from the Devil who looks murderous as he whirls around before his features settle into that horribly cocky smirk he's not done for a long while around you.

“Welcome to the party guys,” he laughs. “Oh your faces. Why don't you just step right on in here?”

He clicks his fingers and Dean and Crowley appear in the Cage too. Dean immediately darts for his brother, pulling him out of the way of the archangel. Crowley looks a mixture of livid and broken.

“Crowley....I guess you're kinda pissed huh?” Lucifer shrugs obnoxiously. “I stole your girl. #sorry not sorry”

Your mind almost split trying to wrap your head around whether this was still in your brain or if this was the actual world. If this was still the dream world then surely Lucifer would be still sweet and shy but he'd reverted back to the moment you'd met him so....was this reality now? Had you just been played?

“Oh honeybun, don't give me that look,” Lucifer pouts. “Everything I said was true of course, I'm just...establishing the hierarchy in this place right now and your ex ranks pretty low as does your rebound over there.”

“You manipulated her,” Crowley growls in the darkest voice you've ever heard from him, the most dangerous tone behind the words. “You played with her emotions. You-”

“And that's any different to what you did....how?” Lucifer chuckles. “I've seen in her little nugget there remember and wow did you whip up some lies.”

You see Crowley's jaw grit like he's going to break his own teeth and the flash of guilt before his eyes resolutely burn into Lucifer's. You've realised something though. He's never once looked at your face since being in the Cage.

_I've betrayed him or have I? Is this all another trick?_

You feel hands wrap around you, pulling you away from the Devil and the King until Dean is cradling both you and Sam in his arms.

“I got you princess,” he whispers to you.

“Is this real?” your voice starts breaking and you feel tears start tracking down your face.

“I'm here. I'm really here,” Dean assures you, clutching you tightly. “I never stopped trying to rescue you both. I got you, Tabs.”

More tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to make sense of what was going on. Dean automatically buried his face in your hair, shushing you gently and trying to calm you down.

“Look what you've done!” Lucifer throws his hands up in the air and points to you. “You've upset her. My poor little Tabitha.”

“SHE'S NOT YOURS!” Crowley bellows, brandishing an angel blade from the sleeve of his overcoat.

“Like that toothpick is gonna do anything,” Lucifer snorts. “Helloooooo? Archangel?”

“I don't care,” Crowley hisses, hand gripping the blade tightly. “I don't give a bloody damn. It may not kill you but it'll hurt and your vessel isn't exactly in tip top shape now is it?”

“Are you threatening me? Seriously?” Lucifer laughs. “You know I could just kill you immediately right? Smite you? I'm powered down sure but I still have some God juice kicking around.”

You were full on shaking by this point, your mind completely fragile and you felt like you were on the edge of a panic attack for the first time since before the Men of Letters. An idea comes to you though. In all of Lucifer's scenarios you had never once called out for Cas, prayed to him. He'd just always conveniently been there. Maybe if you prayed and if he appeared, that could settle things for you.

_Castiel? Please help me. Please let me make sense of what's real. I don't know any more. It hurts. I can't breathe. Cas!_

“I heard you,” Castiel says from right by your ear. “I am here.”

“Little bro!” Lucifer grins. “The whole gang is here!”

Castiel ignores him and places a hand on your forehead. Instantly you feel your airways opening up again and you stop shaking. It even feels like he's calmed your storming brain too.

“I'm definitely back in reality?” you ask him meekly.

“As much as any being can be in the Cage,” Castiel answers in that not very helpful way he often does.

“You're ruining it,” Lucifer frowns. “All of you. I had a beautiful moment going on and you just _had_ to gatecrash. I wasn't even tryna bodysnatch her. I was just enjoying...oh...bonding time. Bet that just kills you inside doesn't it, Crowley? Knowing I turned her from you, knowing she willingly kissed me.”

If there was any doubt in your head about if you were still in Lucifer's construct world it vanished when you saw Crowley....the demon with the highest self preservation streak you'd ever known...suicidally launch himself at the archangel, stabbing the blade through his shoulder as Lucifer tries to dodge.

For his efforts, Lucifer grabbed him by the overcoat and was about to place the killing blow on his head when Castiel dove forward, yanking the King of Hell out of the way.

“Okay, now I'm _pissed_ ,” Lucifer spits. “I've been so generous offering my help with the Darkness and all I've done is grow attached to your friend there. Am I really so bad an option?”

“Always,” Dean says resolutely.

“Oh come oooonnnn,” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Cassy boy? Bro? You got my back right? You know I'm the only one who can stop her?”

The angel says nothing but drags Crowley further backwards, pinning his arms to his sides so the King of Hell can't attack Lucifer any more.

“I see how it is,” Lucifer huffs. “Have it your way then.”

In two short strides he's yanking Dean away from you and Sam and despite yourself, you clutch onto Sam tightly, still trying to protect him. Meanwhile, Lucifer starts punching Dean over and over. It's completely an unfair fight and you know Lucifer's gone for the weakest being in the room so to speak.

“Dean!” Castiel shouts in alarm, releasing Crowley and hitting Lucifer in the back of the head.

Lucifer shoves Dean aside like he's nothing before rounding on Castiel, throttling him with both hands as he pins him to the bars. He's leaning in close to Castiel's ear and you assume he's trashtalking.

You find the courage from some unknown well to stand up, blocking Dean and Sam from the fight and prompting Crowley to finally make eye contact. He seems intensely aggrieved at your broken expression but you break the slight staring contest to address Lucifer before he kills your friend.

“Stop it,” you demand.

Lucifer's head whips round to give you a puzzled look, “Why?”

“He's my friend, stop it now. Haven't you caused enough problems?”

“Problems?” he looks positively shocked. “Are you calling our time together ' _a problem?'_ ”

“Don't play that card,” you hiss. “You were only seducing me for your own benefit. There was nothing else to it.”

“I'm hurt,” he pouts. “After I told you all my secrets too. You don't believe me. Well....I guess with my track record huh? I meant it, Tabitha. I like you.”

“Lies,” Crowley spits.

“Archangel. Never lied....bent the truth a few times sure but I don't barefaced lie.”

“If you're actually genuine then stop hurting my friend, for me,” you try.

“They started it,” Lucifer mumbles, loosening his hold on Castiel's neck. “You saw right? I was being nice and they just had to be dicks about it.”

“I don't care,” you state bluntly. “Let us go.”

Lucifer considers it for a time, “I'll let _them_ go scot free...if you'll stay. Cage gets awful lonely sweetheart.”

“Tabitha, no,” Castiel pleads, the hand still very much keeping a grip. “There's another way.”

“What's your answer?” Lucifer asks, just as Castiel leans in to speak directly in his ear.

You see Lucifer's eyes go wide before he turns to you and smiles heavily.

A blinding light starts in the centre of the Cage and there's chaos as you feel several pairs of hands trying to grab for you. You're not sure whose is whose until the light fades and you're left blinking at the spot where Lucifer was.

“Rowena came through,” Dean sighs in relief, crawling over to hug Sam who was still in shock.

“Kitten,” Crowley says softly. “Let's get you out of here.”

  


**  
  


Settling back in the bunker, Dean was trying to split his attention between you and Sam.

For the most part Sam had started talking again and it seemed Lucifer had given him a worse ride than he had you. Sam had gotten to experience all the memories of the apocalypse and his stint in the Cage again.

Upon the awkward topic that you'd given into Lucifer's charms both boys surprised you greatly with what they had to say.

“I don't blame you,” Sam says gently. “We were there for weeks by all accounts. You held on longer than most and then you still tried to protect me. Thank you.”

“It was just Stockholm Syndrome,” Dean reasons. “He was around you so much and constantly nagging away...it's not your fault Tabs. It never was.”

“Thank you,” you hug them both. “I'm so glad we're all home safe.”

The threeway hug lasts an age, nobody wanting to break it until you finally have to give in, the tiredness overtaking you.

“Look after Sam if he has nightmares,” you whisper to Dean as you leave.

“You know I will,” he says seriously. “And if I hear you having any I will be straight in your room to help you, princess.”

“Thank you,” you smile slightly before heading off to your room.

It gives you a start when you realise it's not empty. Crowley's stood there, nervously waiting. When he spots you, it seems he wants to say something but he's too unsure of himself.

“I'm sorry,” you offer out.

“Why are you sorry?” he seems confused.

“For giving into Lucifer,” you explain.

Crowley closes the distance between you, almost stroking your hair back but keeping himself restrained.

“Darling....you weren't attached to me at the time and you were under the influence of the most silvertongued being in creation. I'm just.... _I'm_ sorry I didn't get there sooner. I tried to. I really did. My mother took force to co-operate in sending Lucifer back to the box.”

“So many times he showed me you betraying me, trying to kill me, trying to forcibly have me....please tell me this is really you,” your voice cracks and you swallow down the harsh lump in your throat before you start crying again.

“My kitten,” Crowley's hand finally touches your face. “It's me. No matter if you want me or you don't, I will _always_ protect you.”

You waste no time snaking your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to you so you can kiss him. He's completely caught off guard by the intensity of the action but soon his hands cup your waist, almost crushing you to him.

“Please don't ever let him find me again,” you plead, pulling away slightly for breath.

“Tabitha,” Crowley murmurs and you're on him again, pouring so much emotion and raw need into your actions. “I love you. I will give my life if it would mean you were safe. I love you.”

  


**

  
  
After staying with you until you fell asleep, Crowley reappeared in Hell.

He took the opportunity of his mother being in the Witch Catcher to make her fetch tea and he drank it with a much lighter heart than he'd had in weeks.

“I suppose you're ecstatic she wasn't gone beyond repair,” Rowena says sarcastically.

“Mother, do you really hate me so that you have to rain on my parade all the time?” Crowley sighs.

“Fergus....a mother just doesn't want to accept things about her son....that he might actually, truly...have found love for instance.”

“Glad you're finally getting it,” Crowley smiles, sipping at his tea.

An almighty bang sounds at the throne room door and he jumps, spilling hot liquid down his trousers.

“What is it?!” he says in annoyance only to see Castiel walk in. “Castiel?”

“Guess againnnnnn,” the angel grins in a way that is very _not_ Castiel like.

“No...” Crowley drops the tea cup where it shatters. “It can't be.”

“Lucifer,” Rowena sighs in that simpering way.

“Bingo!” Castiel...Lucifer...spins around so the trenchcoat flies out. “Found a little loophole in your spell there. You're in my seat by the way.”

Crowley is flung to the side of the room and pinned to the wall. He desperately tries to get one hand free so he can reach his phone and warn you. As he's manoeuvring his heavy limbs, he hears a crack and looks up to see Lucifer snapping his mother's neck.

“Well, she was the only one who could slam me back in the Cage!” Lucifer shrugs. “So let's have a chat shall we? Devil to demon? I'd like to know why you've had your filthy hands on my human. Oh don't rush, we've got all the time in the world....”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casifer confirmed


	33. Devil in Angel's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel seems a bit strange and Crowley’s suddenly blowing hot and cold. What’s going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Captive Crowley is going to go a little differently than canon here but I think it's an elegant fix where Reader/You can be involved more.  
> No warnings this chapter.  
> Tumblr is theliveshipparagon if you have any questions :)  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx

“Harm a hair on her head and I will end you,” Crowley manages to spit out.

“Why would you think I’d wanna harm her?” Lucifer asks curiously. “You saw the bond we had, right? She’s my gal, my little pet human, the only being in this rotten universe that gets it. You think you’ve got a claim just because you fucked her? Please….she doesn’t want you any more, you insignificant worm.”

“Of course, of course…that’s why she kissed me just now. How could I have been so blind?” Crowley challenges, even though he knows it’s the worse idea to rile up the Devil.

“You did what now?” Lucifer says, the voice almost dipping down to Castiel’s signature gruffness. “I could smell her on you but you  _kissed_  my Tabitha? Do you have a death wish?”

“She will  _never_  love you,” Crowley growls.

“I don’t need her to love me, although that sure is a nice bonus,” Lucifer smirks and it seems so alien on Castiel’s face. “I just need her to help me fulfil my greatest desire.”

“Getting a personality?”

Lucifer strides over, squatting on his haunches with a horribly serene expression on his face, “No dummy. Ever seen the Omen?”

Crowley visibly pales at that. Lucifer couldn’t possibly mean….

“Oh yeah, you’re getting it,” Lucifer grins. “Even angels get kinda broody sometimes.”

“No….” Crowley trails off.

This was such a hideous ploy, something that would probably destroy you forever if this came to pass. In fact it would kill you. Human females rarely lived after birthing a Nephilim.

“Soooo I’m gonna make you an offer, Crowley,” Lucifer tilts his head. “Because I’m such a nice guy and all. Say yes to me. Let me use your meatsuit because I know she likes it more than my one. Then when I knock her up, it’ll kinda be like yours too. Shared custody right?”

“I will never consent to that,” Crowley says firmly.

“Ohhhh so you’d like me to do this as Castiel?” Lucifer chuckles. “Does she have a thing for non-humans?”

“No! I…” Crowley loses his composure.

There was no way out of this. If he didn’t let Lucifer in, he’d try and seduce you in Castiel’s vessel. Maybe you’d figure it out quickly but he didn’t trust that Lucifer wouldn’t force himself on you if that were the case. If he let Lucifer in, he’d be a first person witness to someone else touching you with his meatsuit and he thought that might actually drive him insane.

“Tell you what,” Lucifer stands up, pacing up and down. “I’ll give you some time to think it through. Gee, I’m so nice! So I’ll go upstairs, lay down the ground work for this vessel whilst you decide whether you wanna co-parent with me.”

Chains spring up from the floor and snap around Crowley’s neck. Try as he might, he couldn’t get them to budge. He couldn’t even try and smoke out of his vessel, the spellwork was impeccable on the collar.

“So….doggie, be a good boy and wait. Think about what’s best for Tabitha. See you real soon.”

With that he vanishes.

“NO!” Crowley roars, desperately trying to yank the chains out of the floor but it doesn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t work.

“Oh and one more thing,” Lucifer says, popping back into view before riffling through Crowley’s overcoat and taking his phone. “Can’t have you blabbing, can I? Bye bye now!”

He vanishes once more.

“Bloody hell!” Crowley curses.

How in the hell was he going to get out of this?

  
  


**

  
  


“Hello Tabitha,” Castiel says from the doorway to the library.

“Jesus Christ you scared me,” you jump at the sudden noise.

“I apologise. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says shuffling forward. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to research anything that has the same power level as God basically,” you murmur, flicking a dusty page over.

“Like a Hand of God?” Castiel offers.

“Sorry what?” you blink. “What is one of those when it’s at home?”

“They can be anything, relics, scrolls, something that has been touched by God himself who has bestowed some of his power.”

“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me this earlier before I read through ten volumes of utter dross?” you frown.

“They’re difficult to find,” Castiel grimaces. “I didn’t know if you’d find something more feasible.”

You sigh heavily, linking your arms behind your head, “Cas, this is melting my brain. Amara’s almost impossibly strong. I mean she took a direct smiting hit from Heaven and walked away without a scratch. I can’t even reason with her when she visits me in dreams. She’s just too caught up in revenge.”

Castiel sits on the chair next to you and places a hand on your thigh. You don’t think anything of it though. Castiel’s never had intent behind his movements.

“You need a break,” Castiel implores you. “You can’t burn yourself out like this. I can see you are tired.”

“I’m fine,” you shrug it off. “Dealt with tougher things than a bit of reading.”

“I know,” Castiel continues. “Let me help you at least.”

“How?”

“Your shoulders are very tense. You seem to have been studying in a very uncomfortable position. Allow me.”

He stands up and walks behind you, placing two hands on your back. You expect him to use his grace to ease the ache but instead he starts massaging your shoulders and…Jesus Christ he was good at that!

“Where did you learn this?!” you exclaim in surprise.

“I am not completely defunct at interactions,” Castiel says quietly and you feel bad for doubting his abilities.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter. “I just assumed that this kind of thing didn’t go on in Heaven.”

“My brothers and sisters would groom each others’ wings,” Castiel tells you whilst continuing to knead the knots in your muscles. “The practice is much the same.”

“Well you’re very good at it,” you compliment him, leaning back slightly into his touch.

You’re pretty sure you could’ve fallen asleep like that were it not for Dean barrelling into the room like a bull in a china shop. He takes one look at Castiel massaging your shoulders and snorts.

“Gonna braid her hair afterwards too?” he smirks.

“I have the required skills for that,” Castiel nods. “Would you like me to do that Tabitha?”

“Ah no,” you stammer. “You’re alright.”

“Do me next, Cas,” Dean grins. “Got a wicked backache.”

“If you like,” comes the reply but you can swear the angel gritted his teeth a little.

“So princess, how’s the research?” Dean asks, digging in his rucksack and throwing you a boxed up slice of cake.

“Cas was just telling me about things called Hands of God,” you recite, opening the box and savouring the smell of the contents.

“Good ol’ Cas,” Dean smiles. “Always come through for us.”

“Sadly the only known one was lost in 1943,” Castiel nods. “On the USS Bluefin.”

“Wait,” you scrunch up your face.

You were sure you’d come across that before. You stood up, almost knocking backwards into the angel before going to the relic archives section and picking the tome you thought it was in. After flipping through several pages you made a small exclamation.

“The item was a fragment from the Ark of the Covenant,” you read. “Appears one of the European branch of the Men of Letters was sent to retrieve it and bring it here. They never made it though.”

“So it’s at the bottom of the ocean?” Dean sighs. “I gotta get James Cameron to take me on a dive?”

“Unless…” you trail off. “Unless time travel?”

“Cas, can you do that?” Dean asks.

“I believe so,” the angel affirms. “It is dangerous though. I should accompany you.”

“Road trip, you and me,” Dean laughs. “Just like the old days. No offence, sweetheart.”

“None taken,” you poke your tongue out. “Get thee to the past. I’ll scout more of the archives to see if any more Hands of God were documented.”

Dean stands up, noogie-ing your head a little before walking out to get some things ready. You’re surprised to see Castiel looking a little miffed at the interaction.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“I’m….I’m not feeling well,” Castiel blusters.

“Sure you wanna do this? I can tell Dean to wait a little?”

“I just need a lie down for a bit,” the angel’s shoulders slump a little. “Recharge so to speak.”

Castiel takes a step forward and almost pitches to the ground. You rush forward, grabbing him under the arms and helping him to a spare room nearby where you set him gently down on the bed.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re alright?” you say concerned.

Castiel’s hand comes up to cup your cheek and he almost seems pleading in his gaze, “You’re so good to me, Tabitha. I don’t deserve it.”

“Like I’m such a paragon of virtue,” you snort. “You remember my dating history right?”

“Crowley was not right for you,” Castiel frowns. “I am glad you have seen that now.”

“What are you talking about?” you say confused. “Crowley tried to save me. He  _did_ save me in the end. The King of self preservation putting himself in the path of Lucifer is kind of a big win in my book.”

“Please do not return to him,” Castiel strokes your cheek. “I do not know what I’d do if he hurt you again. I care about you too much.”

You had no idea where this was coming from. The angel seemed so sincere as his plaintiff blue gaze arrested your own. Castiel had always been a bit overdramatic but this was a new level.

“Why?” you ask dumbly.

“You’re the only person who has accepted me for me. Bad traits and all. Sam and Dean say they understand it but I know you genuinely do. I have…love for you. Is that correct in how you say it?”

Your heart melts at his proclamation, “Yeah, yeah it is. I’ll be okay, Cas. I always am. I’m a big tough girl remember?”

“I remember,” Castiel nods. “You have survived months in the Cage. I would never think of calling your abilities into question.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you lean in conspiratorially.

“Of course.”

“It wasn’t as bad as everyone thinks.”

“I’m afraid I do not follow.”

“Lucifer he…yeah he showed me horrible things but he would talk to me as well. Tell me things about himself that I doubt anyone but angels knew. When I got pulled into the Cage, I was expecting to get tortured but I got out without a scratch and only limited nightmares.”

Castiel seems to process for a while, “I have always found Lucifer to be inherently misunderstood at his core. He has done terrible things but I have always tried to see the good in him, to look past the childish acting out.”

“I thought you hated him?” you say confused. “You even called him assbutt.”

“Do you not insult your family too?” Castiel says pointedly.

“I suppose I did call Alistair a munter the other day,” you muse. “Anyway, enough of the reminiscent party. Are you feeling alright now?”

“Yes, much better, thanks to you,” Castiel squeezes your hand.

“Alright well I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in the library if you need me,” you tell him.

He seems unwilling to let go of your hand for a while until finally he releases you. As you walk out, something seems a little off with the angel. You could swear he’s never been so overt in his feelings and there was even a slight adorational tone when he spoke of Lucifer. Maybe you were imagining it though. Castiel did go through some odd moods sometimes and you had no idea how celestial beings worked day to day.

You just sighed and pushed it out of your mind whilst you went back to finish your cake, only to find it was half eaten.

“Dean!” you shout out in anger. “You little shit! Get here now!”

  
  


**

  
  


Crowley had been down here for hours.

He was sure he was the laughing stock of Hell as several of his minions had seen him in this humiliating position. Gossip travels fast.

“Hi doggie,” the saccharin voice of Castiel rings out. “Did you miss me? I bet you did.”

“Woof,” Crowley says sarcastically.

In an instant, the chain length is shortened and he finds himself being dragged on his back until he’s lying underneath the legs of Lucifer. Lucifer just wags his finger and sighs.

“I don’t appreciate sass from my pets.”

“What did you do to her?”

“My Tabitha?” Lucifer cocks one eyebrow.

“ _My_  Tabitha,” Crowley spits around the restriction of the collar.

“Oh well…she’s just a tough one to crack,” Lucifer sighs, walking over to the throne and sitting down, cocking his legs over the arm. “She doesn’t have any attraction to Castiel from what I can tell. She’s firmly put him in the friendzone.”

“She’s not one for angels,” Crowley struggles on the floor. “Doesn’t take a genius to work that out.”

“But I’m the best of both worlds,” Lucifer laughs. “I’m an archangel that’s all bad, baby.”

“She doesn’t like the gangly giraffe, get it through your head,” Crowley manages to right himself.

“So say yes to me,” Lucifer shrugs. “Then I can give her what she really wants which is a you and me sandwich.”

“You crude prat,” Crowley huffs, brushing his suit down. “She was attracted to your vessel, not your personality.”

“But I’m such a delight,” Lucifer holds out his hands. “What’s not to like?”

Crowley was about to open his mouth when your text tone beeped out. He hoped against hope that Lucifer wouldn’t answer, that it would be like he’d gone missing so you could find him. Lucifer wasn’t a violent threat to you after all.

“Oh wow,” Lucifer purrs, looking at the phone. “She’s got quite a rack hidden under that blouse, hasn’t she?”

_Kitten, why did you have to sext me right now?_

“Now this is fun,” Lucifer chuckles. “Gotta pretend to be you hmmm? I think I know just what to say…”

He types something before hiding the phone back in the trenchcoat.

“Sooooooo, have we come to a decision?” Lucifer asks, wiggling his feet over the edge of the throne.

“What will you do if you can’t seduce her as Castiel?” Crowley asks, even though he really doesn’t want to know the answer.

“She’ll come round in time. I got her to like  _my_ meatsuit after all,” Lucifer muses. “Took a while but I got there. I’m a patient angel. I can wait. She’s got a good couple of decades of fertility goin’.”

“She’s not a bloody brood mare!” Crowley shouts.

“Oh no, she’s much more than that. She’ll give me the most damn attractive kid I could ask for.”

“You’ll kill her if you do this,” Crowley switches to half begging. “Don’t. Please.”

“Who'da thunk it that big ol’ scary Crowley was such a romantic huh? You’re completely Romeo’d. Curious. Well of course I’d hope she’d survive. Kids need their mom right? She would be such a MILF too. Sure I can’t tempt ya? I mean I’d give you shared custody. I’m modern like that.”

Crowley says nothing.

“Ah come on. You wouldn’t want to have an heir yourself? Especially with her? I’m offering you something big here.”

The very fleeting thought of you carrying his child crossed Crowley’s mind and he would’ve been lying to himself if that didn’t bring him a small amount of happiness. You were his second chance at the life he had wasted when he was a simple human. You were his true destiny. Why wouldn’t he want all the things that came with that? He already wanted you to be his Queen after all.

_Am I seriously thinking about the strangest non-consensual consensual threesome in history, just to satisfy my own desire to have some more tangible with her?_

“No,” he proclaims loudly.

“I’m sorry?” Lucifer cups one hand to his ear. “Did I hear that right?”

“If I have a child with Tabitha it will be on my terms. Not the Devil’s,” Crowley glowers.

“Bad choice,” Lucifer sings. “Stay there doggie. I’ve got some more groundwork to lay. Maybe I’ll even get a little…cheeky. Bye for now!”

In a rustle of wind and the flap of feathers, Crowley was left on his own once more.

He’d made the right decision. He would never deceive you again like that. He couldn’t bear it.

_Please figure out it’s not Feathers soon, kitten. I’m begging you._

  
  


_**_

 

“Oh my god,” you breathe as you get the reply from Crowley.

 

**Not Lover: I want to explore every inch of that décolletage with my tongue. Why don’t you be even more wicked and show me your lower half. Maybe I’ll tell you what I would like to do there ;)**

**Tabitha: Come find out yourself in a bit**

 

Then silence.

He really was being confusing lately. You just chalked it up to the damage Rowena and Lucifer had done. He always seemed to blow really hot and cold after a major event.

It was about ten minutes later that you got a reply.

 

**Not Lover: Hold that thought. Got dreadful admin that needs my ‘urgent’ attention. Keep me going with more exquisite pictures.**

 

You snorted to yourself. The day to day running of Hell was almost like a Fortune 500 company. Maybe you should buy shares.

A soft cough behind you makes you almost punch Castiel as you twirl around quickly.

“Stop doing that!” you hiss, clutching your chest to stop your thundering heart.

“My apologies,” Castiel says to his shoes, not looking up. “I’m taking Dean now. Have you found any more information?”

“Just that the Ark fragment was the only thing described in the whole Men of Letters archive,” you gesture to the sheer pile of books.

“You went through  _all_ of that?” Castiel widens his eyes. “Very impressive.”

“I’m nothing if not thorough,” you smile. “But there’s no extra information that can give you an edge here, sorry.”

“It is quite alright,” Castiel nods warmly. “Well….I will be going then. Uh….wish me luck.”

“Oh come here you daft thing,” you roll your eyes, pulling him into a hug. “You know you can just ask if you want a bit of support right?”

“I do not wish to impose,” Castiel murmurs into your shoulder.

“You’re not imposing. We’ve known each other too long. Don’t be so afraid of affection. You weren’t so standoffish when we had that day of Maury.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Castiel muses. “Then I shall do this.”

He turns his head, which you weren’t expecting, and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek before pulling away and walking back through the entranceway.

“Thank you Tabitha,” he says as he leaves.

Well…..that certainly was unexpected. You tried not to read too much into it. Castiel, after all, didn’t understand a lot of normal interaction customs.

_But what if he’s becoming emotionally attached? Do I need another situation like Dean?_

That was ridiculous though. The angel only ever saw you as a friend, right?

Right?


	34. King of Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer tries to keep his ruse going as Castiel whilst Crowley tries to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I intended this and the previous chapter to be put together but I felt it was getting a bit much. So here’s a slightly shorter one.  
> I do have one shot requests open and my character list I write for is on tumblr. You can find me at theliveshipparagon .  
> Also if you don't have tumblr and want to send me a request, my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx

“Now Julian, you’ve always been my favourite. You know that right?” Crowley coos to his former assistant. “Do you think you could see your way to letting me free here so I can take back the throne?”

“No can do boss,” Julian shakes his head. “Lucifer would kill me.”

“ _I’ll_  kill you if you don’t unchain me you bloody imbecile!” Crowley snaps.

Julian flinches but surprisingly he seems to grow a backbone, “No boss. I know you want to get to your little hunter girlfriend but Lucifer has more purpose for her. She’ll make him a better queen than you.”

“Are you seriously being more loyal to Tabitha than  _myself_?” Crowley blinks in astonishment. “You’d rather accept her with the spawn of the Devil in her belly than if I were to get her with child?”

“The Antichrist holds more sway down here,” Julian tries to reason. “You know as well as I do demons are traditional. They like their myths and legends and the coming of the Antichrist would boost Hell’s morale more than the King of Hell’s heir. It’s just PR, your majesty.”

“Just PR,” Crowley spits the words like they’re venom. “So what do you think will happen to you once I get loose and reclaim my kingdom Julian? Do you think I’ll have much sympathy for you?”

“I expect you’ll kill me,” Julian shrugs. “But then again, Lucifer stands more of a chance of winning out ultimately. Nothing personal, just numbers. So sorry, boss. I’ll be leaving now.”

The demon starts walking away and Crowley panics.

“No wait! Stop!”

It’s too late though. The door to the throne room closes leaving Crowley howling in frustration and fruitlessly struggling against his bonds, the godawful Hawaiian shirt he was forced to wear uncomfortably rubbing against his skin.

_What a royal bloody mess this is. If I really can’t persuade someone to help me escape I may have only one option…_

And it was not the option he wished to take.

  
  


**

  
  


The smell of sea salt invaded your nostrils as you lay in bed, only to find, once you rolled over, that there was dampness on your quilt.

“I swear to god, Dean. If you’ve put fish in my bed I will murder you in your sleep,” you growl, groggy from your little nap.

“Ah, I apologise. I assume I do not smell too good,” Cas’ voice sounds out.

You immediately jerk up, wondering just why the angel was in your bed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. “Where’s Dean?”

“The submarine had angel warding,” Cas explains. “I couldn’t come with Dean. I don’t know how to get him out.”

“He’s stuck there?!” you panic, scrambling out of the sheets and running to the library where you see Sam casually studying. “Drop the books, Sam. Dean’s stuck in the past.”

“What?!” Sam cries, looking at Castiel. “You were meant to protect him!”

“There was angel warding,” Castiel huffs. “I could not get through.”

“Then send me,” Sam begs. “We have to get the message to Dean that the Men of Letters artifact transporter is more clever than he thinks.”

“So we can double down on our mistake?” Castiel sasses. “No thank you. You’re really bringing your A game today. I can’t believe I lost it…him…I mean  _Dean_.”

Your gut was telling you in no uncertain terms that Castiel really wasn’t acting like himself. You just stared at the angel, trying to piece together something that may have prompted this change in mood, in personality. Castiel wasn’t usually so passive aggressive.

“Don’t worry, there will be some way to bring him back,” Sam nods, grabbing for another heavy tome before scanning it.

“I’m sure there will be,” you mutter, still keeping your gaze on Castiel who holds it for a while before looking down and away.

You sit down opposite Sam, pulling books you think might help until your hand falls on one where you see Cas grit his jaw.

_What in the hell is wrong with you today? Do you not want me to find Dean?_

Naturally that’s the one you pick to read first, skimming along the lines and flicking through as fast as you can.

“I think you’d do better with this one,” Castiel tries to hand you another book.

“I’m fine with this one,” you say sternly. “Let me read.”

“Cas, you know better than to interrupt her when she gets on a streak,” Sam sighs in sympathy.

“Of course, how could I forget,” comes the barely concealed terse response.

_Something’s really not right here. Castiel is never this aggressive._

“Wait a second,” you say, your finger stopping on a particular paragraph. “I think I have something. The spell of gathering,. It’s an incantation used to focus the power of celestial beings, angels, against all drawn forms of evasion. The spell is designed to clear all mystical or occult blockages. I mean this is highly theoretical magic, it’s never been used before, but it sounds like it could work.”

“What are the ingredients?” Sam asks hopefully.

Your eyes land on the next couple of sentences and you feel your mood deflate, “Never mind. Scratch that. We need the power of an archangel.”

“We could still try,” Castiel offers.

“We don’t have time for long shots, Cas,” Sam says, getting up. “Even at full juice, you’re not at an archangel level of power. We’ll just have to find something else. Come on, Tabitha, let’s get our laptops out.”

You both walk out of the room leaving the angel behind and it’s not until you’re safely in the kitchen a few rooms away that you turn to your friend.

“Cas is off.”

“You think that too?” Sam says concerned. “I thought it was just me.”

“He’s been all over the place,” you shake your head. “One minute he’s being overly affectionate and helpful, the next passive aggressive and spiteful.”

“Do you think something happened to him? Like a spell?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” you sigh. “He’s been weird ever since we got out of the Cage.”

“Maybe he feels responsible,” Sam shrugs. “You know he can get pretty strange when he feels guilty.”

“Not  _this_ strange,” you point out. “I woke up from a nap and he was in my bed, earlier he kissed me on the cheek. This is not Cas.”

“What do you mean not Cas?” Sam furrows his brow.

“This personality change. It’s not him,” you fold your arms, leaning against the fridge. “But I don’t know how to broach the subject.”

“How about we try and have a united front?” Sam suggests. “Maybe if we’re over friendly back he won’t feel so bad?”

“Fine,” you agree. “But if that doesn’t work, I’m doing the disenchant charm just to make sure he’s completely him.”

“Alright,” Sam nods, clapping you on the shoulder. “Let’s get back before he thinks we’re talking about him.”

You both grab your laptops from the kitchen table and walk back into the library, only to see Castiel presiding over bowls of ingredients.

“What are you doing?” you ask warily.

“The Spell of Gathering,” the angel answers without turning.

“Are you nuts?” Sam yells. “You’re not strong enough! You could get hurt!”

“And do you have a better option?” Castiel says turning around with the most sarcastic expression you’ve seen on his face.

“Well, no…” Sam trails off.  “Wait! Bobby once told me angels can get a power boost by touching someone’s soul. Let me help!”

“Sam, no,” you cut in.

“Not necessary,” the angel shakes his head.

“It’s worth the risk, I trust you,” Sam offers.

The laugh that comes out of Cas’ mouth is unlike anything you’ve heard from him, “Look, I don’t need you any more. You’re like the girl who kept turning me down for prom.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam wrinkles his nose.

You do though. The only reason this spell would be attempted is if someone had the power of an archangel. Castiel had only started acting strangely after the Cage. The sheer over affection and the reverence of your talk about Lucifer with what you thought was Cas. It all came to one conclusion. 

“What have you done to him?” you say savagely.

“Oops, you caught me!” the voice pitches up higher, losing the gruffness. “Gotta say you caught on quicker than Sammy boy here.”

With one wave of his hand, Sam is thrown against the bookcase and suspended in the air. You make to move but you’re rooted to the spot.

“Uh uh uhhhhhh,” he warns. “Now  _you_  I’m not done with.”

“Lucifer?!” Sam manages to choke out.

“In the flesh!” Lucifer bows. “Now I’m gonna take your little Hand of God and then I’m gonna take your friend. You see, I’ve got some re-bonding time to do with Tabitha here.”

“Tabitha, run!” Sam pleads.

“Oh she can’t,” Lucifer chuckles to himself, pacing up and down. “I made sure she’s sticking around. Get comfy guys. Oh and by the way, I think I  _will_ take you up on the soul boost, just because you asked sooooo nicely.”

The piercing screams as Lucifer touched Sam’s soul echoed horribly in your head and all you could do was look on.

“Stop it!” you shout but he doesn’t even acknowledge you.

In a flash, Lucifer’s gone and he reappears moments later with Dean.

“It’s not Cas!” Sam practically bellows.

“Guess the cat’s out,” Lucifer shrugs sheepishly before throwing Dean over the table. “I mean come on guys, we have a common enemy here. Can’t we all just get along?”

You spot Sam out of the corner of your eye drawing the angel banishing sigil in his own blood.

“I thought you just wanted me,” you pipe up, trying to distract him. “Not to team up and beat Amara.”

“Oh sweetie,” Lucifer pouts, the action completely alien on Cas’ face. “I have to defeat Amara first and  _then_  we can have our fun.”

“But why do you need them to help?” you challenge. “Are you not capable? I thought you were this big bad archangel who could do anything?”

That ignited pride within him and you could see in the way he stalked over to you that his need to be the dominant male in the room was growing. He practically held your chin in a vice grip as he stared down at you, fire in those deep blue eyes of Cas’.

“I have a Hand of God,” he growls. “I have the power of an archangel. What makes you think I need Team Winchester? They’re just my cheerleaders.”

“I think you’re just bluffing,” you carry on, noting that Sam was almost finished. “You just don’t have the juice.”

“Oh…OH, I see how it is,” Lucifer smirks. “You want an alpha male, don’t you? That’s why the Cas thing isn’t working for ya. You just can’t help but want the bad boys.”

Dean silently padded over to Sam, helping him draw the sigil faster but in the process, kicked one of the chair legs, making a slight squeak on the flagstones.

Lucifer was about to turn around to look but you launched yourself at him, dragging him to you by the tie and kissing him so fervently that you felt his grin at your assumed compliance and two hands snaked around your waist.

“Hey douchebag,” Dean calls and you back off immediately.

Lucifer whirls round, spotting the sigil and raises the Hand of God quickly but instead of smiting anything, it fizzles out.

“Guess it’s a one hit wonder,” Dean laughs. “Hit it Sam.”

Sam slams his hand on the sigil, completing the rite and you have time to hear Lucifer say, “Clever girl”, before he’s bodily ripped from the bunker in a blaze of white light.

“You okay?” Sam asks.

You make a point of wiping your mouth, “Not really. I don’t make it a habit to kiss everyone in this bunker.”

“Sure about that princess?” Dean quips, dodging as you throw a book at him. “Alright, alright but you’re goddamn scaring me by kissing the Devil so much.”

“Trust me, I’m not seeking it out,” you grumble. “I need a drink. Preferably a strong one.”

“I’ll get on that,” Dean nods awkwardly before leaving you and Sam alone.

You help Sam get up, checking on his wounded hand.

“You can say I told you so now,” Sam sighs.

“I don’t think either of us wanted this outcome,” you say, wiping the blood away with a tissue. “I’m just….I’m worried, Sam. Lucifer’s taken a weird interest in me and…”

“I get it,” Sam reassures you. “Remember I went through it.”

“I know, that’s why I feel I can talk to you,” you continue your nursing. “After the cage I just….I never wanted to come across him again. The way he talks to people, it’s so easy to fall for his charms, to get suckered in.”

“But he’s probably the most deadly being out there apart from Amara,” Sam finishes for you. “I know, Tabitha. I’ve had all the same thoughts before. I promise you, I won’t let him take you. I’m sure Crowley would promise you the same if you asked him.”

You look up in alarm slightly and Sam just chuckles.

“I know you still feel something for him. The way you were after the Cage with each other. I’m not as emotionally colourblind as Dean.”

“I think I just need to focus on myself right now,” you smile wearily. “No promises of relationships or some such. Just casual.”

“I don’t wanna know,” Sam scowls playfully before hugging you. “We’ll get through this. We’ll get Cas back, stop Amara and stuff Lucifer back in the Cage.”

“I can get on board with that,” you nod before stepping back and sending a text to Crowley.

  
  


**

  
  


As the brazier was flung against the back wall and embers sprayed down it, Crowley tried to hide the massive smirk that wanted to break free.

You hadn’t given into him. You’d worked out his little plan and now you’d eventually figure out he was trapped down here.

“Why in the world are you frenemies with these people?!” Lucifer rants as he kicks a torch bracket hard. “They’re so….urgh! Heroic and stalwart and goddamn one liners.”

“I take it they spoiled your little plan?” Crowley cuts in.

“Seems my girl is a lot smarter than I thought,” Lucifer puts his hands on his hips. “Now my Cas cover is blown. What a headache!”

“Ah well, guess your plans of fatherhood will have to go on hold,” Crowley says.

“Hmmmm, not quite,” Lucifer rubs his chin before coming to Crowley’s side. “You see, there’s still Plan B.”

“I’m not agreeing,” Crowley glowers.

“I think you might if I said I’ll maim her,” Lucifer smiles politely. “I mean, what human needs legs to give birth right?”

Crowley swallowed the growing lump of terror in his throat. He really wouldn’t put it past Lucifer to do something that childish just to gain the advantage.

“I always get what I want,” Lucifer chuckles. “So now I want your vessel.”

“She’ll know it’s not you,” Crowley tries to reason. “She’s seen through one disguise already and you don’t have nearly enough of my charm.”

Lucifer made as if to strike him but lowered his hand, no doubt thinking if he hurt Crowley that it  would be difficult to explain to you.

“I don’t need days to get the job done,” Lucifer counters. “I just need to distract her with some good ol’ fashioned passion straight away so she doesn’t have time to question me. After that, well…she can either accept me or I’ll just wait until she dies to get my kid.”

“I’m  _not_  accepting,” Crowley growls viciously. “You are not killing the woman I love for your own twisted ends.”

“Then I’ll just go torture her a little bit,” Lucifer pats him on the head. “Sit tight, doggy. I’ll Facetime you the show.”

“No, wait!” Crowley calls as Lucifer stands up.

This was the last thing he wanted to do but if Lucifer was threatening you with bodily harm, he knew the archangel would carry through with it. You were nothing more than curiosity to him, a surrogate. He’d chosen you specifically for your physical and mental traits rather than your personality. Torturing you would be business as usual.

“Have we changed our mind?” Lucifer whirls around with the biggest grin on his face, just as your text tone beeps out. “Oo! Let’s see what my girl has to say, hmm?”

He studies the phone before reading out loud:

“Lucifer has taken over Cas’ vessel. Get prepared in case he comes your way. Will I see you today?”

_You still care about me, Tabitha, even now. I have never deserved such a wonderful creature as yourself and I will do my damnedest to spoil Lucifer’s plans. Just you see._

“So….Crowley, Crowley, Crowley….are we gonna get this threesome on the road?” Lucifer raises one eyebrow expectantly.

_Forgive me, kitten. This is the only way I can stop him. I hope….._

“Yes,” Crowley acquiesces. “Yes I will be your vessel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's coming next chapter ;)


	35. Three's a Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley says yes to Lucifer. Will you notice there’s no longer one soul in his vessel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, have a shorter chapter because this was a good natural stopping point.  
> Warnings: Smut, Angst  
> Prepare yourself for the weirdest sex scene I've ever written....  
> TLP xx

“Oh this is music to my ears,” Lucifer grins, making Castiel’s face look ten times more sinister. “Open wiiiiiide.”

Since Crowley had long since killed the human soul of his meat suit, he got to experience the feeling he was sure the original soul did. It was like he was crushed, suffocated, pushed to the very back of his own mind. Lucifer was all encompassing and his mere presence in the vessel was obnoxious.

“ _Are we comfy_?” Lucifer says wordlessly, the communication only a idea.

“ _Exuberantly so_ ,” Crowley replies, trying to get the edge of sarcasm across but it was difficult in abstract thought.

“ _Let me make this clear. You’re going to feed me info about what she likes, about what you’re like with her so it doesn’t draw suspicion. My girl is smart, I need our A game on this. With me?_ ”

“ _Ready as I’ll ever be._ ”

“ _And off. We. Go._ ”

 

**

 

You were taking some time out from the boy’s fervent discussion about Castiel’s choice. Frankly it was getting tiresome listening to them argue.

Castiel had made his choice based on Lucifer lying to him and you couldn’t fault him for that. Lucifer was charming, charismatic…I mean you’d fallen for it yourself. How could you blame his own family for trying to see the best in him?

“Am I interrupting?” Crowley’s voice says from next to you and you jump up, almost scattering your tea everywhere.

He’s sat in your reading armchair, one leg resting over the other, shirt half undone, tie undone and you could see the patch of chest hair showing through. You could swear he was trying to kill you.

“Um,” you babble. “You’re very….dishevelled.”

“You don’t enjoy it?” he quirks up an eyebrow. “….Pet?”

“I wasn’t expecting it,” you say honestly. “I mean we haven’t….done anything since….”

“I thought you might need the distraction,” Crowley sighs, getting up. “With Lucifer on the run and all.”

“Just…come here,” you pat the bed.

He obliges, kicking off his dress shoes beforehand and you end up burying your face into his chest, holding him to you.

“Can we really just pick up where we left off?” you murmur. “I mean, I was so angry at you.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve done you a great many wrongs. I’d like to make up for them,” he says seriously.

“Since when have you called me sweetheart?” you snort.

There’s a minute discomfort to his movement, “Just trying it out. Perhaps it’s not for me.”

“Reminds me too much of Dean,” you say apologetically.

“Quite,” Crowley pets your hair back. “Now….. _darling_ ….I don’t have much time. I can’t be away from Hell for too long in case Lucifer strikes, so tell me what you want me to do. I’ll go by your lead.”

“Is there much point in me asking you not to lie again?” you sigh.

“Tabitha, I meant what I said in Limbo,” Crowley’s hand trails to your face, stroking along your cheekbone. “I am  _trying_. I am trying to be the being you think I am. It will take me time and it will be a long journey but I will make it for  _you_.”

You knew this would probably backfire again but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him. Maybe you  _were_ expecting far too much from a soul that had been twisted for three hundred years. Crowley was never going to be a true blood good guy but perhaps that was the appeal. At least he was trying to rebel against his nature for you. You could allow him a few mistakes when he obviously cared deeply for you.

You leaned up, feeling the whiskers of his beard under your fingers again and pulled him to you in a sweet kiss, one he eagerly reciprocated.

  


**

 

“ _Nice save, Tex,_ ” Lucifer chuckles to Crowley as the kiss continues. “ _She totally bought the Limbo story. Chicks dig when guys talk about feelings._ ”

“ _Tabitha is not just any ‘chick’_ ,” Crowley replies. “ _She is unique, intoxicating_.”

“ _Oh boy, don’t I know it. Look how much she wants me_.”

“ _I think you’ll find she wants_  me.”

“ _Quiet, doggy. Don’t make me mute you out_.”

“ _If you do that you won’t know how I usually take her and she’s bound to notice if you start doing things off. I’ve got her body’s needs down to a fine art._ ”

“ _Oh geez louise, fineeeeee. I really hate backseat drivers but I guess this kooky threesome has to work somehow right?_ ”

“ _Work your hands slowly under her top and up her sides. Not too gently or you’ll tickle her._ ”

Lucifer does so and Crowley can feel the warmth of your skin, the tiny gasp you make into his mouth like you always do.

“ _Now, just graze the nipple, enough that she starts arching her back_ ,” Crowley continues to direct.

He wished he was exclusively in control so badly. He hated knowing Lucifer was deriving pleasure from this too.

“Enough teasing,” you got impatient, yanking your top over your head. “It’s been too long.”

“ _Ooooo I like her_ ,” Lucifer purrs. “ _She’s kinda aggressive. I dig it_.”

“ _If you like her more aggressive then deny her your touch._ ”

This was incredibly broken, giving tips to his greatest enemy on how to please you but Crowley was playing the long game.

“Oh you don’t like my teasing?” Lucifer said to you. “That’s a shame.”

“Don’t you dare,” you growl, face a picture of pure lust.

“ _Use the term King. That gets a big reaction,_ ” Crowley adds.

“And what will you do little wayward hunter, hmm? What will you do to your King?” Lucifer leans away, creating space.

You practically dive on him, straddling whilst ripping his shirt fully open. Then your mouth is on him, leaving sharp kisses across his chest.

“ _Oh wow, now_ this  _is fun_ ,” Lucifer says in a tone where Crowley can hear the grin. “ _She’s a little firecracker, huh? All that raw primal urge. I’ve been doing it all wrong. Who needs a submissive little human when they can be this spirited?”_

“I’ll do  _this_ ,” you hiss, unbuckling his trousers and yanking them down along with his silk boxers before you removed the rest of your clothing.

“ _Oh I’m going to enjoy taking her away from you, Crowley. We are going to make b-e-autiful babies_ ,” Lucifer coos.

“I’ll show you how a King can be brought to his knees,” you whisper into his ear, before positioning yourself over his cock and sinking down on his sheer length. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Lucifer parrots back, groaning as he filled you to the hilt.

Crowley could feel the sensation too. The familiar heat and tightness was driving him crazy. It wasn’t time yet though.

“Ride me, pet,” Lucifer commands. “Take all your King has to offer.”

“ _You know I could really get into this King thing as a kink. It’s totally working for me,_ ” Lucifer chuckles.

“ _Now you see why I enjoy it_ ,” Crowley tries to keep him on side. “ _Grab her hips. Let her know you still subtly retain the power here._ ”

Lucifer does as he instructs and he feels you double your efforts, bouncing up and down harder. The way your hair was mussed and the flush colouring your cheeks was exquisite. Crowley really had missed you and how horrible fate was that  _this_ was to be your reunion.

“ _Tell her to touch herself, that you want to watch_ ,” Crowley says to Lucifer who was barely listening any more, the connection fading.

“ _Oh fantastic idea!_ ”

“Make yourself cum for me, Tabitha. I want to see you come undone,” Lucifer rasps.

“Like this?” you tease, snaking your hand down in between you and running tiny circles around your clit.

Hell’s teeth, this was maddening! Crowley could feel the tiny pulses as you worked yourself up, building your orgasm and he knew it was nearly time to spring into action.

He watched as you came hard around him, clenching on his cock as you became slicker. Your body trembled but you kept going. A true trooper.

Now!

He used the full majesty of his demonic powers to stuff Lucifer into the back of his consciousness as quickly as possible.

“ _What do you think you’re doing?!_ ” Lucifer cries.

Crowley flips you under him, fully back in control and he ruts with desperately urgent need, knowing he had mere seconds left. The feeling was already building in his core and he took in your mewling moans to help him along as he made one last vicious thrust before he spilled into you, shutting off the switch that made him infertile. Once he had finished, he surrendered control back, hoping the dizzying feeling would throw Lucifer off.

“ _I just wanted to feel her. You can’t begrudge me that_ ,” Crowley says.

“ _Well sheesh, good job you didn’t rip all of the fun part of it away,_ ” Lucifer huffs. “ _So it begins huh? I can feel it now…..it’s taking. She will bear me my heir. Good job, doggy._ ”

“Wow that was…intense,” you manage to recover. “We need make up sex more often.”

“Well I am happy to oblige,” Lucifer rolls off you.

“ _I’m still going to punish you, Crowley. You tried to one up me. I don’t like that,_ ” Lucifer growls to Crowley in his head.

“ _I understand._ ”

“I hope that gave you some comfort,” Lucifer says sweetly to you. “I must go now but I will be back for you, my love.”

“Promise?” you say, still sprawled out on the bed like a regency heroine.

“Always, darling. Good bye for now,” Lucifer bends down to kiss you before clicking his clothes back on and disappearing back to Hell.

  


**

 

“You know….” Lucifer says, back in Castiel’s vessel. “Maybe I should’ve stayed in your meat suit, be the Crowley you should have always been. Someone….like me.”

“You got what you wanted,” Crowley says sourly. “Now don’t torment me like this any more. We’re….equal fathers after all.”

Lucifer has no suspicion about the switch it seemed. Crowley’s plan had worked. You would grow heavy with  _his_  child but Lucifer would protect you every step throughout your pregnancy believing it was his.

Crowley had won.

He had beat the Devil at his own game.

“Yeah….about that,” Lucifer drawls, draping himself on the throne. “You only get weekend visitation rights. Sorry about that. Well actually…not sorry. He’s only a third your kid after all, maybe even a quarter. I’m  _very_  virile.”

_Not as virile as you think you overgrown feather duster._

“But I’m bored with Hell,” Lucifer pouts. “It’s kinda drab, don’t ya think? Maybe I’ll check out Heaven for a little while, see if I can’t entertain myself a little more. So sit tight, doggy. I’ll be back.”

There’s a gust of wind, a whisper of wings and he’s gone.

Crowley tugs at his chains once again but he’s stuck fast. If Lucifer was meddling in Heaven, undoubtedly he was trying to make his position more powerful, to take on Amara. Crowley wasn’t going to stop that particular goal if it meant keeping you alive but he still needed to get out of here, to keep up the ruse that nothing was going on.

If you thought for a moment that something was awry, the whole thing would go up in flames. For now, he needed to work  _with_  Lucifer’s plan in mind, to keep you safe and protected.

If only he could get out of here though.

_I will give my life to keep you safe Tabitha…you and my child. That I swear to you._

  


_**_

 

Crowley’s desperate ravishing of you had left you completely spent.

You hadn’t moved in an age before you finally decide to get up. There’s the strangest sensation in your abdomen as you do but you brush it off as Crowley just being a bit too rough.

A knock at the door makes you hurriedly throw on a bath robe nearby before you answer.

“Yeah?” you say to Dean who’s standing awkwardly outside.

“Thought I heard something,” he mumbles. “Just checking you were okay, princess.”

“Peachy keen,” you smile, acutely aware it is  _very_  evident what just happened.

“Right….” Dean trails off. “Was it him?”

“Who?”

“Crowley,” Dean grits his jaw.

“Does it matter?” you challenge.

“We’re meant to be tryna save Cas and you’re just….”

“Just what, Dean?” you get defensive. “Just taking a sodding break from the endless research? Just trying to put the memory of Lucifer in Cas playing with my emotions out of my head? Just trying to get over the goddamn Cage?”

Dean winces, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so….aggressive about it.”

“Yes you did,” you fold your arms. “Are you still….still….?”

“Into you?” Dean finishes, sighing heavily. “I can’t just switch it off, Tabs. I’m trying, okay? Every now and then it hits me like a gut punch. It’s getting better but it ain’t perfect.”

“Does this mean you won’t be my friend?” you ask quietly.

“Ahh Tabs. I would never stop being your friend,” Dean says seriously. “I just don’t have to like your taste in men, alright? It sucks, frankly.”

“I’m well aware,” you smirk. “Prize idiot number one over here for liking people I shouldn’t.”

“Look, forget I said anything,” Dean gestures. “Let’s rewind. Gonna do a burger run to help us hit the books. Want anything?”

“The very definition of a heart attack,” you reply instantly and you seen Dean snort. “All of the grease and all of the bacon and cheese. I’m super hungry.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Dean nods. “Be back in a few.”

As he left, you felt a little deflated. Dean’s little jealous spat had taken some of the wind outta your sails with your reunion with Crowley. At least he’d had the decency to apologise.

Your stomach rumbled in angry protest all of a sudden.

Why  _were_  you so hungry right now? You’d only just eaten about two hours ago and weren’t normally this big on so many meals. Maybe you were coming down with something. You felt a little off.

_Just my luck, right?_


	36. The King's Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley comes clean about Lucifer’s Plan to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys,  
> Been moving house and trying to catch up on lost writing time!  
> Chapter warnings: Angst, jealousy, violence  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (May be proof reading errors)

“Come on, Quentin, I don’t bite,” Crowley coaxes the timid soul projections manager over.

“I…I shouldn’t be defying our king,” Quentin stammers.

“ _I’m_  your king,” Crowley glowers. “Your king who’s just sired an heir with one of the most powerful hunters in the world, a hunter praised by a Knight of Hell no less. Do you really think Lucifer stands a chance?”

Quentin edges closer and closer before he finally comes to Crowley’s side, producing a key and unlocking the heavy spiked collar where it clatters to the floor.

“Ah, wonderful,” Crowley cricks his neck before snapping himself into a fresh suit. “You will be greatly rewarded yadda yadda. Now I have business to attend to. I suggest you make yourself scarce in case that winged moron decides to revisit.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Quentin fawns before vanishing quickly.

_Time to explain this entire mess to you. I hope you understand, Tabitha._

  
  


_**_

“Never fear boys and girl, your saviour is here,” Crowley announces from out of nowhere making you half spill your tea.

“Jesus Crowley, it’s called knocking. Ever heard of it?” Dean frowns.

“So you don’t want my Hand of God then?” Crowley quirks up an eyebrow.

“I hope that’s not a euphemism,” Sam sighs. “So you have one?”

“I do and I’m going to hand it over to you so we can oust the Prince of Dickness out of Feathers once and for all.”

“Why do you care?” Dean says a little more hostile than normal.

“Because he chained me like a dog in my own throne room,” Crowley growls, the humiliating memory still burned into his brain. “Because even though Castiel is an utter ingrate, I much prefer him to the other angel alternatives.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” you stand up from the chair. “How long have you been imprisoned?!”

“A while,” Crowley admits.

Smash!

The tea cup you’re holding drops to the floor and spreads across the well worn wood.

“No…” you breathe, the realisation hitting you.

“Tabitha, what is it?” Sam stands up too, moving towards you concerned.

“Tell me that was you yesterday,” you point a shaky finger at him. “Please for the love of god tell me that was you.”

Crowley hangs his head and sighs.

“Wait wait….if that wasn’t you in Tabs’ room then who the hell was it?!” Dean shouts in alarm.

“Lucifer…..Lucifer took over my vessel,” Crowley looks to the ceiling and you can tell he’s uncomfortable relaying this although you at least admire his boldness to tell you in front of the brothers.

“But don’t you have to say yes to angels?” Sam becomes angry. “So you agreed to that?! Why?!”

“You have ten seconds to explain yourself King Douchebag or I’m gettin’ the demon knife,” Dean growls.

“Because he was going to hurt Tabitha,” Crowley looks defeated. “He gave me no other option.”

“So he just used your body as a joyride to trick me?” you try and wrap your head around it.

“Why would you believe him?!” Sam yells. “He lies!”

“Oh trust me, Sam. He wasn’t lying. He described in detail what he would do to her if I didn’t agree and even if it was bluster, I wasn’t going to take that chance. Would you in my place?” Crowley holds out his hands placidly.

“So…the thing….the thing I thought happened with you…happened with Lucifer?” Dean stutters. “The Devil tricked Tabs into…..god damn.”

You felt a wave of nausea and knew you had seconds left so you rushed into the nearest bathroom before you ended up vomiting hard. You could still hear the boys arguing with Crowley in the next room before there was a familiar hand stroking your back and pulling your hair away from your face.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley says simply.

“It’s not your fault,” you  press your head to the cold cistern. “You thought you were saving me.”

“That’s not strictly everything, darling,” Crowley says hesitantly. “Have you been feeling slight pains, been off your food, fatigued more?”

“Yeah, why? Is that something to…..oh fuck. Oh no. Tell me I’m not doing a Rosemary’s Baby right now,” your eyes widened. “Am I..”

“Yes,” Crowley says before firmly looking at you. “But it’s not his.”

“What?” you blink in confusion. “I don’t….I don’t understand.”

“I managed to stuff Lucifer’s consciousness away at the…uh…pivotal moment shall we say. I was in control for the last minute. That’s not Lucifer’s child. It’s mine.”

“I’m pregnant with….with your baby?” you stumble over the words before another fresh wave of nausea hits.

“I know. I know this is not what you wanted,” Crowley says seriously. “I know things had only just patched up between us but Tabitha, this was the only way to save you. If Lucifer believes that’s his child then he’ll keep you safe and that’s all I care about. His interest in you-”

You shush him with a hand whilst you try and collect your heaving stomach, “I get it. In the Cage…he kept talking about wanting an heir. I guess he’s just fixated on me to do that.”

“He would never have stopped,” Crowley rubs your back. “Not until he achieved his goal and he would’ve gladly disabled you to make you compliant.”

You gripped his suit as if clinging to a lifeline. The sheer notion that you’d actually had sex with Lucifer made you want to claw your skin from your body but worse still was the fact that you were pregnant and human/non-human pregnancies never went well.

Strangely you weren’t mad at Crowley. You knew he was doing whatever he could to keep you safe and you could actually see the slight imprint of what looked like a shackle that had been around his neck which verified his story.

_But to carry his child though? Was a human/demon child even possible?_

“Go on, I know you’re listening in,” you look at Crowley who is minutely flustered for ten seconds before he rearranges his expression into that familiar chiding smirk.

“Alright. I guess I’m rumbled. Yes a human and demon child is possible. It carries a less fatal risk than a human/angel child but still more risk than a normal one. They’re called Cambions.”

“And are they….”

“Evil? Only if they’re raised to be. They have more capacity for it but also a greater capacity for good if you can believe. There are a few in Hollywood. Traditionally they’re on a level with an incubus/succubus for beauty.”

“So there’s Cambion actors and actresses?”

“Oh like you wouldn’t believe,” Crowley chuckles. “And they’re not who you’d expect either.”

“You’ll have to point them out sometime,” you smile weakly. “I…have to do this, don’t I?”

“I’m sorry, pet,” Crowley says sincerely. “He will keep trying until it takes otherwise. I didn’t want this for you. I would’ve wanted you to have the choice.”

“Given the choice I would rather have your baby than Lucifer’s,” you try a terrible joke.

“Well I should hope so,” Crowley smirks at you.

“Fuck,” you start half crying. “So this is my life now huh? Unexpected pregnancy, a demented archangel who thinks it’s his and the world is ending because God’s sister is playing a cosmic destruction game of the Jeremy Kyle show.”

“Sounds about right,” Crowley fetches you some water. “And your demon lover is a deposed King who will have to reassert himself in chains every night unless he can smite the Devil once and for all.”

Fear suddenly runs through you, “What if he kills you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Crowley says stoically. “If I have to die to keep you safe I will. You and that child are all that matter to me”

“ _Our_  child,” you correct him and you see his eyes glimmer in warmth. “And you knocked me up in the first place. Don’t you dare do a Winchester and sacrifice yourself and leave me a single parent.”

“Is that an order?” Crowley raises an eyebrow.

“Too bloody right it is,” you say firmly.

“Awful bossy, aren’t we?” Crowley chuckles. “I’m…I’m surprised you’re so accepting of this, by the way. I expected a lot more….shouting.”

“Crowley, in the grand scheme of things I’ve gone through, being pregnant is not the worst thing,” you manage to stand up on shaky feet and flush the toilet. “I’m pretty sure nearly dying a few times and being trapped in the Cage beats that and…if it keeps Lucifer from possessing everyone to get to me, I’m fine with that. I mean…what if he went for Dean?”

“Oh please do not put that image in my head,” Crowley grimaces. “I’m pretty sure the oik doesn’t need the Devil’s help to try and seduce you.”

“Behave,” you pull a face.

“Yo, what’s taking so long?” Dean calls.

“Does he know?” you ask the unusually quiet King of Hell.

“No. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble for you,” Crowley sighs. “It’s up to you, darling.”

He bundles you in his arms, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll take your lead, Tabitha.”

“Hey hey hey!” Dean says, coming round the corner with Sam. “None of that!”

“None of what?” you fire back.

“Canoodling, in my bunker,” Dean puts his hands on his hips like an angry parent.

“ _Canoodling_? Good gracious, Dean,” Crowley rolls his eyes, “Are you from the fifties?”

“It’s not your bunker anyway,” you stick your tongue out. “Technically it’s mine.”

Dean just stops mid point, processing before snapping back to life, “Yeah well….none of that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks. “I know it’s a pretty heavy thing to take in.”

“It got heavier,” you push your hair back from your face.

“Hey you don’t look so good, princess,” Dean suddenly changes to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You half expect Crowley to say something but true to his word, he just looks at you for guidance.

“Ever fancied being godparents?” you half laugh, a little delirious still.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam blinks. “Are you….did Lucifer….?”

“Lucifer what?” Dean looks to his brother and to you. “What did he do?”

“Dean, she’s pregnant,” Sam explains.

“Lucifer got you pregnant?!” Dean exclaims loudly. “Well let’s get down to the goddamn clinic before you bring the damn Antichrist into the world.”

“Dean, it’s hard to explain,” you shush him. “It’s not Lucifer’s.”

“Well who the hell knocked you up?!” Dean becomes angrier.

“I did,” Crowley puts his arm around your waist. “I suppressed Lucifer whilst he was attempting to make his little Damien heir. It’s not his.”

“Don’t care, let’s get down to the clinic,” Dean grabs your arm.

“You don’t understand,” you yank your arm back. “Lucifer will keep trying until he gets what he wants. If I go through with this, I’m safe…at least for nine months whilst I figure out what to do.”

“No, no this isn’t happening,” Dean needles his forehead. “You are  _not_  having the King of Hell’s demon spawn!”

“Dean, it’s not your choice,” Sam looks affronted. “It’ll keep her safe!”

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Dean growls before launching himself at Crowley, fists bared.

The two men grapple whilst you and Sam do your best to try and separate them. You’ve never really seen Crowley in a fist fight but he holds his own very well, landing equally vicious blows to your incensed friend.

“For God’s sake, stop!” you yell.

“I oughta kill you!” Dean rages, punching Crowley so hard in the mouth he bleeds. “You manipulated her, you gave her Stockholm Syndrome, you knocked her up so she couldn’t leave you. You asshole!”

“I’m saving her you pathetic loved up moron!” Crowley savagely uppercuts Dean to the jaw. “Get over your teenage crush and look for once in your bloody life! Can you not see I am at least the better option than the sodding Antichrist?!”

More blows are exchanged and both men fall into the shower cubicle, blood smearing up the tiles.

“Dean, stop!” Sam wades in, grabbing the back of Dean’s shirt and yanking him away.

“Let me go, Sammy!” Dean squirms. “He deserves a damn knife in his ribs!”

“So you’d leave my child fatherless, would you?” you glare at Dean who suddenly seems to deflate in his energy.

“I didn’t mean it….I didn’t mean it like that, Tabs,” he drops to his knees, looking ashamed of himself. “You know I’d take care of you. I’d take care of that kid as well.”

“You are not playing step-father with my child, Winchester,” Crowley disentangles himself from the shower curtain. “This is not some hunter happy families. This is about saving the world, this is about saving Tabitha. She stands more of a chance of living, birthing a Cambion rather than a Nephilim.”

“Can you just…can you guys give me and Tabs a minute?” Dean asks quietly.

Crowley and Sam look to you, slightly concerned but you wave them out, shutting the door behind them.

“This is so messed up,” Dean shakes his head. “How do we even know Lucifer is after you like that? Crowley could be lying.”

“Dean,” you sigh, sitting down on the floor next to him. “In the Cage, Lucifer was talking about having an heir and it being his one unfulfilled purpose in life. I’m absolutely positive Crowley is telling the truth about this.”

“Why you?” Dean slams his fist on the floor.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Because I resisted him for so long? Because he connects to me? Because I have good genetics? Not a clue. I just know I’m in this situation and I have to make the best of it.”

“But Crowley-”

“Lucifer was trying to set the groundwork to do it in Cas’ vessel first,” you cut him off.

“Oh wow,” Dean wrinkles his nose. “Okay, I guess. I don’t like it, Tabs. Crowley hid Amara from us, he lied to you…..what do you see in him?”

“You mean what does he have that you don’t?” you raise an eyebrow. “Dean we can’t choose who we develop feelings for. It just happens. Sometimes it may not be the right thing and sometimes it is but life, the hunter’s life is far too short to dwell on not living in the now. I didn’t ask to be pregnant. I didn’t  _want_  to be pregnant but here we are. Now are you gonna help me through this or not because I’m not even sure I’ll survive birth here so I’ve got about nine months to live possibly.”

“Tabs,” Dean springs up, hugging you fiercely. “I will keep Lucifer away from you, I will help you through the pregnancy but don’t ever ask me to like Crowley.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. “Just accept that I do.”

“Fine but if he breaks your heart again, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions,” Dean growls.

“That’s fair,” you concede,

You manage to hug it out before getting up off the floor together and exiting.

“All good?” Sam asks from outside.

“Oh shut up, Sammy. I know you were listening, jerk,” Dean frowns.

“Charming, Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes.

Crowley reappears, winding his arms around you protectively.

“So…this Hand of God,” Dean says, wiping the blood from his nose. “Can it fry the bastard, Lucifer?”

“I certainly hope so, or we’re all screwed,” Crowley says grimly.. “Truce?”

“Truce,” Dean nods. “But only for her sake.”

“Fair,” Crowley nods. “Now let’s get to work boys. We’ve got a Devil to kill.”


	37. Where Angels Fear to Tread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Crowley and the brothers take the fight to Lucifer. Can you save Cas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long.   
> I've been quite ill lately so my concentration has been terrible.  
> Finally back with a chapter!  
> Any questions etc my tumblr is theliveshipparagon  
> Happy reading  
> \- TLP xx

Going to an abandoned warehouse in the Impala was incredibly awkward.

Dean insisted Crowley sit in the back but you were up front. You could still feel the waves of pure anger and disgust aimed at Crowley as you drove but thankfully nothing was said directly.

Sam for the most part tried to distract everyone with small talk. You were so glad he at least seemed to accept the situation and he’d told you as much before you left the bunker. All he cared about was that Lucifer didn’t hurt you.

“So…” Sam pipes up for the third time.

“Oh do be quiet, Samantha,” Crowley sighs. “Let’s just address the Cambion in the Impala shall we? Tabitha and I are back together, she’s carrying my child and you two chuckleheads should be happy she’s not having the Antichrist.”

“So help me, I will drive this car off a damn cliff if you don’t shut your cakehole,” Dean growls from the front.

“As if you would,” Crowley huffs. “If this car were a woman you’d be trying your luck.”

You end up laughing out of nervousness and tension and Dean just gives you the blackest look.

“What?” you shrug. “You would.”

“You actually would, Dean,” Sam agrees.

“Alright, everyone get out,” Dean grumbles.

“Hey, if the Cortina was a guy….” you joke and that seems to get through to Dean a little bit.

“Such music doth sooth a savage beast,” Crowley chuckles. “You really know how to tame him, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Tabs, I can’t keep my damn promise because I’m actually gonna gank him right now,” Dean slams the accelerator a little harder.

“Alright, enough,” you snap at both of them. “Are you forgetting that I literally have the Devil after me right now? Do you think you could put aside your silly pissing contest for one minute? Also you know…the world might end?”

“She’s right,” Sam nods. “We’ve got bigger things to be worrying about.”

“Oh shut up Sam,” Dean snarls. “I-”

“Dean!” you shout and he falls silent.

“Know your place, Winchester,” Crowley smirks in mirth.

“And  _you_  can be quiet also,” you point backwards. “Stop riling him up.”

“Hah,” Dean grins victoriously. “See.”

“What did I just say?” you fix Dean with a steely gaze.

After silence fell again, you just ended up racking your revolver, making sure it was perfectly functional.

_God just hurry up so we can save Cas and this awkward nightmare can end….._

_**_

When you got to the warehouse, you try and set up the ingredients for summoning Lucifer as best as you could.

“Are you okay?” Sam leans on the wall next to you whilst you crush herbs to powder. “I know this is a bit…intense.”

“Really?” you raise a sardonic eyebrow. “I’m carrying the King of Hell’s baby, the Devil thinks it’s his and the sister of God has a creepy interest in me. Just another Thursday right?”

“Alright, I get your point,” Sam raises his hands in platitude. “I mean them fighting with each other. It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh it is,” you sigh. “Is it too much to ask for for some support?”

“Apparently,” Sam smiles at you. “Well if you will have a type…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you say in mock outrage.

“You like the overly confident ones,” Sam says knowingly. “And when you get two in a room…”

“Yeah yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I have issues, I know.”

“Hey, uh, Tabs?” Dean approaches, playing with his hands. “Just wanna say I’m sorry for being a jerk in the car. It wasn’t cool of me.”

“No it wasn’t,” you cross your arms.

“I told you I was gonna help you through this and I’m letting feelings get in the way so…I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.

“Thank you,” you unfold your arms, “Apology accepted.”

“And I’m sorry too,” Crowley steps up to the side of Dean. “This is not a situation anyone expected and I shouldn’t exacerbate things.”

“Oh, so you’re both on the same page again?” you look between them.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” Dean nods. “Lucifer and Amara. Those are the big bads.”

“Not going to be worth fighting like petty teenagers about your situation if there’s no world to speak of, pet,” Crowley sighs. “So for now, Dean and I are resurrecting Growley and Squirrel.”

“Oh I didn’t agree to that,” Dean wags a finger. “I’m not doing any more karaoke.”

“But it was so entertaining,” Crowley smirks before winking at you. “So are we ready?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you nod.

A giant boom was heard in the silence that seemed to shake the very ground and you all just look at each other before running outside.

“What the hell was that?” Sam asked. “An earthquake?”

You knew instantly. You could feel it in your bones.  You heard the voice carried along with the rumbling.

“HEAR ME!”

Amara.

God knows you were doing your best to keep it together right now. There was too many threats, too many things to keep track of.

“It’s alright, darling,” Crowley squeezes your shoulder. “I’ve got you. I won’t ever let anything happen to you.”

“You know, one day I’m going to punch you in the face for reading my thoughts again,” you say, staring at the sky.

“I might like it,” Crowley chuckles behind you, grabbing your waist. “You are rather fun when you’re violent.”

“I swear…” you sigh.

“Ah but you’re not longer on the verge of a panic attack, are you pet?” he kisses your cheek softly.

“I guess not. I hate that you get me so easily,” you fake tap his hand.

“No you don’t,” he whispers. “You love it, you love  _me_.”

You don’t answer him but you turn your head to look into his eyes and he seems to get all the affirmation he needs.

“Guys, we have work to do,” Dean coughs. “And I have a plan….and it’s  _horrible_.”

“It involves Lucifer doesn’t it?” you wince.

“Yeah, yeah it does but only to get him to take Amara out,” Dean promises. “You with us?”

“So the crux of your grand plan is to get Lucifer to use the Hand of God to smite Amara I take it?” Crowley says and you can hear the subtle undertone of his distaste.

“We’ll stuff Lucifer back in the box when it’s over,” Sam adds.

“But you had my mother last time and the Book of the Damned. I see you have neither right now,” Crowley holds you tighter. “Do you really want to expose Tabitha to him again?”

“Of course not,” Dean wrinkles his face. “I want him in the farthest reaches of Hell  _away_  from her but this is the best shot we have. An archangel wielding it? Gotta be better than us, right?”

“I’ll just sit in the Impala,” you shake your head firmly. “I’m out.”

“Tabitha, please,” Sam implores.

“I can’t Sam,” you stress. “I’m tired of being brave, of being the one that holds everyone else up. I’m frightened, okay? I’m frightened.”

Crowley’s embrace of you is almost bone crushing at this point and both brothers look incredibly guilty.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t realise,” Sam offers.

“I guess we’re so used to you being this badass Men of Letters chick we forget you’re human like us,” Dean says, looking at the floor. “I get it. It’s alright, sit in the Impala and we’ll handle it.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Crowley starts to move you away.

“No, we need you,” Sam blocks his path.

“But-”

“Help them,” you squeeze Crowley’s hand. “Please.”

“Alright darling,” he kisses your hair. “But I don’t like the idea of you being alone away from us.”

“Oh she won’t be alone, Fergus,” that saccharine sweet voice invades your ears.

“Mother?!” Crowley whirls around. “But I saw Lucifer kill you?!”

“Takes more than that feather duster to grind me down,” Rowena smiles but it’s accentuated with bitterness.

“So you’re no longer a fan girl?” Dean asks, hand on his pistol.

“Being killed by someone you idolise doesn’t exact put them in your good graces, Dean,” she grimaces. “Now now…why would little Miss Brave suddenly chicken out? Did he try to kill you too, little poppet?”

“Not now, mother,” Crowley blocks you from view.

“Oh…..OHHH,” her eyes light up as she twirls dancing light around her fingers. “Fergus! You didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” he says offhandedly.

“She’s got a wee bun in the oven!” Rowena practically jumps on the spot. “Oh lassie, you’re getting in that car straight away. No bloody archangel is getting to  _my_  grandchild.”

The switch from wanting to kill you to wanting to protect you spun your head a little. Was she finally accepting you or was she just excited that birthing Crowley’s child could kill you?

“Don’t you hate me?” you end up blurting out.

“Oh pish, that’s old news Tabitha,” Rowena dismisses. “Now I realise there’s something genuine there with my son it’s all water under the bridge, plus you’re giving me a grandchild.”

“You know mother, I did actually have a son when I was alive,” Crowley rolls his eyes.

“Bit of a waster though,” Rowena purses her lips. “A child coming from your lassie will have a little more mettle to them.”

“Goddamn this is the weirdest conversation I’ve heard in a long time,” Dean shakes his head.

“Do wind your neck in Dean, family business here,” Crowley sighs. “But I agree, Tabitha should get in the car now. Best to start the ritual before we all lose our nerve.”

“I’m rather eager to help,” Rowena says determinedly. “I’ll slam Lucifer back in the cage the second his usefulness is done.”

“Glad you’re on board,” Sam blinks in shock before setting up the oils.

You just go with Crowley’s gentle push as he steers you back to the Impala, setting you in the backseat where he lays his prized angel blade next to you.

“Be safe,” he instructs you. “Whatever happens to us, keep out of sight. If everything is lost, don’t let Lucifer find you.”

You feel like he’s saying his final goodbyes and you work yourself up, reaching up to kiss him fiercely. He makes a strangled growl as he pulls away, not wanting to leave you.

“Tell me you love me, Tabitha. Please,” he requests and you can hear he’s worried.

You’ve known him so long now, his little mannerisms, tone of voice, pitch changes. You can tell exactly what kind of mood he’s in.

“I love you,” you say firmly. “And I told you, if you die, I’ll be so fucking cross with you.”

He chuckles, regarding you with a warm gaze before shutting the door and rejoining the others.

You can only watch as they start the ritual, the flames rising to form the perfect circle as Rowena helps drive them higher. There’s a crash of lightning from above and you see him…Cas….Lucifer….trapped in the circle. You see Dean attempt to bring Castiel back to the foreground but obviously it goes horribly wrong as that arrogant smile replasters itself on the angel’s face.

There’s more heated conversation before Lucifer suddenly looks up, _right at you_. Everything freezes completely as the archangel just casually douses the flames and steps across the boundary line before fixing you with a wicked grin.

In a rush of air, you’re not longer sat in the Impala. Now you stand before Lucifer whilst he shyly clasps his hands together like a nervous date.

“Hi sweetie,” he waves fake bashfully at you.

“Take one more step towards her and you’re toast, buddy,” Dean growls.

“What? I can’t say hi to my baby momma over there?” Lucifer snorts. “Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful? I think we did a great thing Crowley.”

You blanch for a second, hoping Rowena wouldn’t spill the beans but she keeps silent, her steely gaze glaring at the archangel.

“You’re not coming anywhere near Tabitha,” Crowley says defiantly.

“Pfft, come on,” Lucifer laughs. “As if you could stop me from seeing my kid.”

In another wave of his hand, you’re right next to him and he grabs your waist, taking your hand and swaying with you.

“Come on babe, let’s celebrate,” he grins and it still greatly disturbs you to see that expression on Cas’ face.

From nowhere  _[Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DCAORTc5dj3Y&t=NzBlYjI4MDFmYjExOTRlNTVkODFlZjkwNTgwYzJhNjhkZjdkMWUxNCxVaXFlRUVQNA%3D%3D&b=t%3AqOvnaaDd_SfVYQ8UVUnylw&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheliveshipparagon.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F178709721075%2Frevolution-chapter-37-supernatural-fic&m=1) _ starts playing and he’s twirling you round, reigniting the holy oil so the boys and Crowley can’t get near you.

“Gee I wonder who he’ll take after,” Lucifer holds you close, stroking your cheek whilst you’re paralysed in fear. “I’m guessing me, although I’ll be happy if he has your eyes. They’re so…. _expressive_. I can practically visualise the fear you have in them but don’t worry, honey bun. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll dote on you, give you anything you want.”

“Then get out of Cas,” you find your voice.

“Okay, maybe not  _everything_ ,” he shrugs, grinning goofily. “Kinda need a vessel, dear. Unless Crowley wants to volunteer again?”

“We weren’t a good fit,” Crowley sneers, clearly agitated beyond belief as he readies himself to jump across the holy oil barrier.

“Don’t!” you shout at him, afraid.

“Let her go!” Dean readies his pistol.

“Really?” the sarcasm is heavy in Lucifer’s voice. “A gun?”

“It’s not for you,” Dean grits his jaw and you realise he’s aiming at you. “You think I’m gonna let her bring the Antichrist into the world? No way. If I have to kill her to prevent that then I know she’ll understand.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Crowley roars in alarm.

_Calm down, he’s just bluffing so Lucifer will let me go. He won’t risk the baby being hurt._

You do your best to think directly at Crowley and he seems to get the hint but he keeps up the ruse.

“Are you mad?!” Crowley continues.

“I don’t think you get the point, Dean,” Lucifer demeanour flips until he’s almost growling, his hand curling painfully into your hair so you have to follow where he leads you. “She’s  _mine_. That life in her belly is  _mine_. She belongs to  _me_  and if you don’t lower that gun I will END YOU.”

Dean starts gripping his throat like he can’t breathe, his eyes slightly bulging and you turn your gaze to see Lucifer waving his fingers. Then Crowley starts gasping for air, his face turning red and Sam follows, clawing at something unseen around his neck.

“Stop it!” you yell, trying to twist away.

“My little sugar pie, I can’t have anyone harming our little ray of Heavenshine,” Lucifer coos sweetly into your ear, kissing your cheek. “What kind of dad would I be, huh? I told you, I’m not repeating  _his_ mistakes.”

So it seemed at least Lucifer was being truthful about something. His desire to be better than God, at least in his twisted imagination.

“Don’t kill them!” you hiss.

“Are you ordering me around now? Geez we’re not even married and you’re nagging me already,” Lucifer snorts. “And I don’t think so. Call it a gift. I get rid of your whiny friendzone guy, the guy who can never stop lying to you and….well Sam.”

A crash of thunder and half of the warehouse wall blows open to reveal Amara gracefully walking through the debris.

“Release my chosen,” she commands. “Now.”

“Oh hey auntie,” Lucifer grins, letting go of you and stopping his chokehold of the others.

You immediately run straight to Crowley who grabs you in his arms, holding you tightly.

“You’ve changed nephew,” Amara says enigmatically. “And you despoiled one of my chosen. I see she’s carrying something non-human. Let me fix that mistake.”

“NO!” Both Lucifer and Crowley say in unison before Lucifer grabs the Hand of God…the horn of Joshua and uses the full power to blast divine energy at Amara.

You think for a moment it may have worked but as the smoke and the light dim down and you regain some of your vision, Amara is still standing there completely unphased.

“I think we need a chat,” she says in a pissed off tone before grabbing Lucifer. “As for you Tabitha. I will help your condition later.”

She vanishes, taking Lucifer in Cas’ vessel.

You’re almost smothered by Crowley and Dean who both go in for the hug. They awkwardly realise what’s happening but in the end settle for sandwiching you between them.

“Are you alright, darling?” Crowley says hurriedly.

“Yeah I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, just like you said he wouldn’t,” you appreciate the affection. “Are you both okay?”

“Just peachy,” Dean squeezes you a little. “I guess Lucifer wasn’t a great plan after all.”

“Power of God’s children doesn’t trump God’s sister,” Sam sighs, coming up to you.

“So we’re back to square one and Cas is still being driven by the Devil,” you make a frustrated sound. “And now Amara wants to give me a cosmic abortion. Fantastic. The one thing keeping Lucifer from killing me right now.”

“We’ll be ready next time,” Crowley assures you. “And I’ll get mother to…”

It’s then you realise Rowena has completely vanished.

“Guess she wasn’t much help after all,” Dean remarks.  “Coward.”

“Just when I think she’s turned over a new leaf,” Crowley sighs heavily. “Never mind, kitten. I swear I will find whatever spell it takes to keep Lucifer away, at any cost.”

“Kinda bold don’t you think?” Dean frowns.

“Would you not protect her?” Crowley bristles.

“Of course I damn would,” Dean says fiercely. “But you gotta know when you’re beat. We hit him with everything we got and he still just walked outta there like nothing had happened.”

“We can’t contain him but then again, who knows what Amara is doing to him right now,” Sam says  sternly. “So what’s our play?”

“I have no idea,” Dean shakes his head, breaking his hug from you. “I don’t know how to save Cas. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll think of something,” you say firmly.

“In the mean time, let’s keep you away from Amara,” Sam rakes a hand through his hair. “You can-”

“Samuel, if you intend to ‘bench’ Tabitha in the bunker, I can assure you that won’t work,” Crowley strokes his hand down your back. “She’s far too spirited.”

“At least someone gets it,” you quip. “Let’s just get home. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

“Can’t argue with that, princess,” Dean nods, moving back to the Impala.

As you were in the back with Crowley, resting your head on his arm, you realised just how much trouble you were really in. Caught between two divine entities and their quest for power.

_Sometimes I wonder what things would’ve been like to stay in the Men of Letters_

“Grim,” Crowley answers your thought. “You wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with. Your revolution against your peers was infinitely attractive.”

“But now I’m in this situation,” you whisper back. “And I’m afraid.”

“So am I, darling,” Crowley says quietly, the cocky swagger diminishing. “So am I.”

He silently places a hand over your stomach, guarding it almost and you can tell in that moment how much this child means to him. Maybe he’d never expressly say it to you but the action spoke volumes.

He leans to whisper in your ear, “I hate the circumstances of this state of affairs but I can’t deny that the thought of you bearing my child doesn’t fill my twisted soul with joy. You’ve changed me, kitten. I’m not the demon I was and do I miss it? No. I told you I wanted  _all_ of you all that time ago and I meant it, and I meant everything you could offer me also. I wish we could escape somewhere together, live out our days in peace but that life will never happen for us and I’m all the more sad that it will never be a possibility….but I will make the best of what’s happening right now. I swear on my Kingdom, Tabitha, I will give my life to protect yours.”

Well who could argue with a proclamation like that?


	38. Are You There God?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With neither Lucifer nor Amara defeated, you’ll just about need a damn miracle to stop the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some heavy subject matter so be warned. There is angst and grief.  
> Nothing is a happy ending in Supernatural  
> \- TLP xx  
> Possible proof reading errors

You all just drove in silence, no particular goal.

It was about twenty minutes later when Dean just pulled over and stopped the car completely. Nobody said anything, nobody made a sound even.

The enormity of what had just happened hit you harshly. Not only could you do nothing about Amara right now, you couldn’t even trap Lucifer. If you couldn’t even trap Lucifer, what hope in hell did you have of stopping Amara from ripping the world apart?

Never had you felt true despair. Even in the times you almost died you had hope. Now you had nothing to cling onto, just an impending sense of dread. This was it, this was the endgame and you’d just shown your best hand and lost.

You felt Crowley’s fingers dig a little into your skin, obviously listening in to your desperate thoughts but you didn’t care. What did it matter any more?

“We could just drive,” Dean says quietly. “Anywhere. Let’s go to the mountains and watch the sunset or something. Last night on earth barbecue.”

“Dean, we….” Sam trails off but he knows he can’t offer anything helpful. “We need to fight this to the end.”

“Why, Sammy?” Dean turns around, unclipping his seatbelt. “We lost. We lost big time. The power of God wasn’t enough to smite her, Cas is completely gone to us. We got nothing.”

“Crowley, tell him,” Sam says.

One look at Crowley’s firm set jaw and that told you enough. You’d never seen him look so grim.

“I can’t, Sam. I can’t. Dean is….right,” Crowley sighs. “We are absolutely blind, powerless and the only thing we could possibly exploit is Amara’s interest in Tabitha and Dean but that still leaves Lucifer as a problem. We are caught between a rock and a hard place, I believe the expression is.”

“So none of you have anything? Any ideas?” Sam’s face becomes crestfallen.

“Face it, Sammy. We just gotta make the most of the time we have left,” Dean sighs, wrenching his necklace over his head and throwing it with disdain into the back seat. “Nobody is gonna help us now.”

You pick the necklace up from the floor, tracing your fingers over the strange design. It’s well worn but also well loved.

“What is this?” you ask quietly, your mind completely distracted.

“It’s supposed to be linked to God,” Dean scoffs bitterly. “Show me when he’s close, you know? God is a douchebag though and he doesn’t give a damn about anyone. Coward.”

You couldn’t believe such a tiny object was supposed to have that much power. It was so delicate, so unassuming.

You took what Dean had said and you did something quite ridiculous, something you’d not done since you were a small girl. You prayed to God.

_I know you probably aren’t listening, you might not even care but The Darkness will consume the world and I’m afraid. If you’re out there, please help us. Please help them._

You didn’t expect anything to happen. It was just a silent offering to calm your brain. So when the pendant started glowing, you just about almost choked on your own breath.

“Guys!” you started flapping your arms like a hyperactive child. “Look!”

You watch as three sets of eyes completely widen on the necklace.

“What did you do?!” Dean demands. “It’s never done that!”

“I prayed,” you admit.

“Well God must be into some feminist crap because he’s never answered when I’ve prayed,” Dean scowls before taking the necklace back and scrambling out of the Impala.

In fact you all do. You hop next to Dean, staring as he turns this way and that with it, the pendant glowing bright and dim with each sweep. You take it from him when he doesn’t seem to be getting it.

It’s like a compass and the brighter it glows, that’s the direction you need to go. You follow the line, wending in and out of the street until you hit the main street and see a man helping up some pedestrians who’d fallen into the road.

“Tabitha!” Crowley calls, trying to keep up as he manages to put one hand on your shoulder.

Dean and Sam follow, just staring into the street, trying to decipher what it meant.

“That’s him,” you almost whisper. “The light is almost blinding. That’s God.”

You walk without thinking, purpose true in your mind as you reach the man with his back turned and stop, your heart hammering wildly.

“Hello. Tabitha isn’t it?” he turns around.

God is not what you expected. You don’t know why you had this image in your head of an elderly man with white hair but the young dorky looking man with curly hair and hipster chic was not in the slightest what you imagined.

“You don’t often go by your real name any more. I find that fun, you’ve forged your own way in life,” he continues talking.

“Chuck?!” comes the voice of Sam.

“Oh no way,” Dean stammers.

“What?” you turn around to them, confused.

“Oh, you weren’t here when they met me before, I’m God but you can call me Chuck. Hey we’re kinda the same in that regard with names and all,” Chuck extends his hand.

You’re shaking hands with God. You’re sure your mind couldn’t take that much more amazement.

“I’ve been writing their gospel for some time now, The Winchesters,” Chuck explains. “They met me many years ago. Didn’t I boys?”

“Yeah thanks for those lasting words, man,” Dean frowns. “I’ll never be able to get ‘Wincest’ outta my head. Internet, Jesus.”

“It’s just people having fun,” Chuck smiles. “Now, you prayed to me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t expect you to hear,” you admit.

“Come on, let’s talk somewhere more familiar,” Chuck nods.

  
  


**

  
  


It felt very strange being in the bunker with God.

Crowley hadn’t said a single word and you wonder if he was frightened. After all, he was a being who’d turned from God’s light technically.

“You’re not buying this are you, Dean?” Chuck notes Dean’s sour face.

“That you…you are God? Nah,” Dean shakes his head. “Not you.”

“Maybe you’ll believe it better from my former prophet,” Chuck waves his hand.

There’s a curtain of light that drops from the ceiling and shimmers before it draws back to reveal….

“Kevin!” you gasp.

Kevin Tran. That sweet little boy you looked after, that sweet little boy that you burned on a funeral pyre.

“Tabitha,” he grins.

You don’t care if he’s only an illusion, you walk forward and attempt to hug him. When you make contact with solid flesh, your composure dissolves and you draw him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper against him. “I should’ve protected you better.”

“I don’t blame you at all,” Kevin tells you. “You did everything you could. Please don’t torture yourself any more, Tabitha. You know what my Heaven was?”

You pull back looking into his placid face, a face you’ve only seen a couple of times on him in real life.

“What?”

“You, me and Dean,” he smiles warmly. “When you made me dinner. When we just talked and laughed like a normal…..family would.”

“Kid you’re gonna make me cry,” Dean hides his mouth with his hand, looking to the ceiling.

You’re already crying. You were done being the stalwart one of the group. You were just so happy to see him again, to know that he was alright and he was in a better place.

“Trust Chuck, Tabitha, Dean, everybody,” Kevin announces. “Even you Crowley. I’ve watched you and Tabitha’s made you bearable now.”

“No hard feelings then?” Crowley asks, his hands dug into the pockets of his overcoat.

“Nah,” Kevin laughs. “You got your karma in the end. The books are balanced.”

“That’s very….magnanimous of you,” Crowley ponders.

“He’s a good soul,” Chuck smiles. “I think you’ve earned a little extra something, Kevin.”

He waves his hand and Kevin is enveloped in pure light before he fades out of existence, only swirling specks like tiny fireflies left in his wake. You knew what had happened. He’d truly been laid to rest now, a private corner of Heaven reserved for only the most pious. You’d heard that is was possible.

You just let your hands float through the dancing lights, the last memory you’ll have of Kevin before turning to see Sam looking excited beyond belief, Crowley looking completely stunned and Dean…..Dean looked livid.

“You’re angry at me, aren’t you?” Chuck sighs.

“Damn straight I am,” Dean hisses. “Where the hell were you?! I called for you so many times.  _Everyone’s_  called for you so many damn times. Did you just get busy during the World Wars? The Plague?”

“I tried being hands on, okay?” Chuck holds up his hands. “Old Testament remember? Didn’t work out so well. I just left you guys to it and you’ve done better than I thought.”

“Better?” Dean says in a voice that’s bordering on dangerous. “Wars? Biochemical weapons? Murders? Rapes? None of that is _better_.”

“But you have music and art and dance,” Chuck smiles almost deliriously. “And that’s amazing!”

“It’s bullcrap!” Dean roars. “You’re just making excuses for abandoning us!”

You see the subtle change in Chuck, a change that reminds you  _exactly_  how much power he held. The smile faded, the posture stiffened and the eyes darkened. You felt afraid in that instant.

“Don’t project your Daddy issues on me, Dean,” Chuck says sternly.

“I-” Dean begins but you cut him off.

“Can you help us? What I asked of you?” you interrupt.

“I don’t get involved,” Chuck falls back into that sweet and kinda goofy stance. “But I have faith in you guys.”

“Excuse me?” you blink. “Then why did you answer my prayer at all?”

“I felt like you needed a boost,” he shrugs. “Something to motivate you.”

“By just leaving us to it?” you clarify. “You think you showing up and doing absolutely jack shit is going to motivate us?”

“Oh of course!” Chuck slaps his palm to his head. “You can’t do much in your state can you? You’re technically dying.”

“She’s what?!” Crowley steps forward.

“Humans can’t carry the children of demons, Crowley. You should know that,” Chuck chides.

“Some make it,” Crowley tries to argue.

“But Tabitha is not one of them,” Chuck turns his gaze to you. “You’re not destined to survive this child. You would’ve survived if you’d actually carried  _Lucifer’s_.”

“No chance in Hell I’d ever carry Lucifer’s child,” you say angrily. “This is just to save me from him.”

“My son is….erratic,” Chuck pats at his unruly hair. “I apologise he’s so fixated on you.”

“Then do something!” Crowley demands, bristling with rage. “Before he turns her into a broodmare.”

“Told you, I’m hands off now,” Chuck says nonchalantly. “You guys are smart. It’ll work out.”

“Some help you are. You’re just useless,” Dean snarls.

“Fine, you want me to help?” Chuck gets irate again before slamming his palm on your stomach and there’s a hot sensation before the light in his hand burns out. “There, I helped. Go team Free Will right?”

“What did you do?” you ask in shock. “What did you do to me?!”

“Saved you,” Chuck answers shortly. “Now you have a chance at life so use it well against Amara.”

“Did you just kill my child?” Crowley gapes in absolute horror. “Did you…”

“It’s a mercy,” Chuck smiles sweetly. “Would you rather have your child or Tabitha?”

You felt like there should be some…empty feeling. Some fan fare. Anything that would indicate that God had just made your growing child disappear in an instant.

“That was not your choice to make,” you say, absolutely maddened beyond belief.

“But you would’ve died?” Chuck says puzzled. “You should be thanking me.”

“But you’ve just given Lucifer licence to try and get me again,” your voice starts shaking, the pitch going in and out as you try and control the fire burning in your heart. “You’ve just given him even more reason to be angry at you because he thought that it was  _his_  child.”

“Like I haven’t ever handled people being disappointed in me,” Chuck gives you a reproachful look.

You’re not sure what on earth possessed you to lose your damn mind. You think all the stress had just gotten to you. You just walked up and punched Chuck straight in the face.

“You selfish arsehole!” you yell, putting your full power into it.

“Are you…are you kidding me right now?” Chuck blinks, touching his face.

“She just punched God,” Dean looks starstruck.”Boy what a turn on.”

“Dean,” Sam says, half scowling, half apprehensive.

Crowley just comes behind you, silently wrapping you up in a hug. His grip is crushing and he buries his face in your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” is all he whispers and it breaks your heart to hear the defeat and grief in his voice.

You knew how much that child meant to him. Perhaps he would’ve told you to abort it had he known it would kill you but to have that choice ripped away from you both……

“Go to bed, the lot of you,” Chuck just snaps his fingers, a dark look on his face.

  
  


**

  
  


You wake up in your own bed, the beat up alarm clock registering that is was eight in the morning.

You have no memory of getting there and it was the afternoon when you last remember speaking to anyone. How had so much time passed?

You feel someone stir next to you and Crowley jerks up, reaching blindly for you. You meet him half way and he just bundles you into his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know it would kill you. Forgive me, kitten.”

There’s an odd shaking sensation and you realise he’s crying as he holds you tightly. You’ve never know him to do that.

“Hey,” you say gently, reaching up and wiping the tears away from his overgrown beard. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. We couldn’t possibly have known.”

“All I did was hand you a death sentence when I thought I was saving you. I’m reprehensible,” Crowley continues, his voice thick and heavy from the sorrow.

“At least you tried to save me,” you kiss the underside of his jaw. “And I’m sorry. I know you wanted this.”

“Nothing is worth your life, darling,” Crowley says seriously. “If I am to remain childless for the rest of my cursed life then so be it. You are all I want. The action of it though….it hurts.”

“Oh Crowley,” you kiss him gently, trying to soothe him.

Never had the King of Hell opened up this much to you since he’d been dosed with human blood. He was completely raw, exposed, all for you.

“Please…..please darling. Tell me you love me,” he seems uncharacteristically subservient.

“I love you,” you say with utter conviction.

You just remain like that for a while, soft kisses, caresses with no sexual intention, just a contentment to be close.

You end up drifting off again.

  
  


**

  
  


“Bear witness my chosen,” Amara smiles at you and Dean. “My brother has finally come out of hiding I see. Took him long enough.”

You say nothing. The last thing you needed her knowing was that God…Chuck was here but he wasn’t even willing to lift a finger to help.

“So I’m just making thing clear,” Amara continues, stepping to the side to reveal Castiel/Lucifer in chains, badly beaten and bleeding. “This one doesn’t have much time left…the archangel  _or_  the angel. So if God  _does_  contact you. I want to know. Are we at an understanding?”

You and Dean just exchange horrified glances before turning back and nodding.

“Wonderful,” she smiles broadly.  “Now, time to wake up my chosen. You’ve got some God hunting to do.”


	39. Just A Slob Like One Of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When God acts like a deadbeat dad, what else are you supposed to do to stop the apocalypse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Grief, angst, God is a dick (sorry for religious folks)
> 
> Sorry for the delay, been at the doctors a lot so not had much writing time/motivation
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)

“You were shouting,” Crowley shakes you awake. “Are you alright?”

“I just…” you blink yourself back to reality. “I saw Amara again.”

“And how is the bitch of Darkness doing?” Crowley says gruffly. “I can see how she’s cut from the same cloth as her brother now.”

“She’s torturing Cas and Lucifer,” you bite your lip. “This is too much Crowley…..God’s sister wanting to destroy the earth and God being a deadbeat dad.”

“More than a deadbeat dad,” Crowley growls, fiercely bundling you into his arms. “Downright abusive, negligent….”

“I need to speak to him,” you decide.

“Then I must watch,” Crowley nuzzles against your face, the scratchiness of his beard a strange comfort. “Because your last conversation with God…I will fully admit I wanted to take you when you punched him.”

“Even though….”

“Even though,” Crowley nods. “I don’t express grief well. This is something you’ve not seen of me yet. I tend to lose myself in my….proclivities. I’m not a stable man, darling, despite my outward appearances.”

“It’s okay, I get it,” you nod.

“I knew you would,” he sighs. “Just….be careful, Tabitha. I wouldn’t want to lose you because your temper got the better of you. God may be a colossal specimen but he’s still a divine being.”

“Oh I don’t know, I’ve backchatted to things much more powerful than myself,” you roll over, giving him a small wink.

It’s nice to see a smile cross his face, if only for the briefest moment. This was really affecting him and you could tell but he was trying to mask it under sexualised comments and distraction.

“You just never learn to keep your tongue in its place,” he gives a tiny smirk.

“I keep my tongue in the best places and  _use it_  in the best places,” you get up before changing your clothes, feeling horrible in your, now, two day old garb. “But I get your point. I’ll try not to piss off God. Even though he deserves it.”

When you both entered the war room, your better mood faded at the sight of Chuck just stirring his coffee casually, like hadn’t a care in the world. The rage was just boiling inside you.

Sam and Dean were awkwardly standing off to the left, unsure whether they should join Chuck or stay reverently stood up.  Dean still looked pissed as all hell though.

“You’re still mad,” Chuck looks up at you, infuriatingly chirpy for your liking.

“You still murdered a child,” you spit back.

“Oh give me a break,” Chuck rolls his eyes. “You would’ve died. I don’t begrudge abortions that would kill the mother. That’s just inherently…idiotic.”

“I would’ve liked the choice,” you snarl. “Free will. That’s what you gave us before you buggered off into the void or became some hipster fan fiction writer, right?”

“FAN FICTION?!” Chuck cries. “That was my gospel! The gospel of Sam and Dean!”

“Whatever,” you dismiss. “You’re detracting from the point.”

“You want to talk morals and ethics?” Chuck raises his eyebrow. “How about we talk about the little boys and girls you  _murdered_  to become a chief Men of Letter’s agent. How is that any different?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you yell back, Crowley having to restrain you whilst the boys looked on in horror. “If I sat and did nothing I would be dead. If we  _all_  sat and did nothing they would kill us all and start afresh.”

“Sounds like janky reasoning to me,” Chuck shrugs. “Look, you want a shot at dealing with my sister? You can’t do that with the King of Hell’s baby draining your lifeforce. You just can’t. I can keep my son away from you if that’s what you need, divert his attention to someone else. I don’t know why he’s so fascinated with you to begin with when a thousand other women would do.”

“Bite me,” you growl. “You have zero socials skills for being God, you know that?”

“Yeah, shut your piehole,” Dean joins in. “Just fricking apologise for being the biggest deadbeat dad in history.”

“Geeeeeez, fineeeee,” Chuck throws his hands up in the air. “Sorry for taking away your choice.”

You take that opportunity to sit down opposite him, arms folded, legs cocked up on the table. You weren’t going to show him one more iota of respect from now on.

“Now that’s outta the way,” Chuck stretches. “I’ll give you some time alone to figure out your Amara plan. Go get ‘em boys.”

Chuck rises and leaves the room, stuffing one last rasher of bacon into his mouth as he goes.

“Are you okay, princess?” Dean asks. “Thought you were gonna go for another round with him.”

“He’s just an arsehole,” you shrug.

“Yeah, he stole my bathrobe too,” Sam scowls. “I’m starting to wonder why he even bothered showing up.”

“I think….he is just as deluded as he makes out,” Crowley interjects. “I genuinely believe he feels his presence is akin to that of a cheerleader. I wouldn’t expect much usage out of him.”

“And you?” Dean asks. “You still on side even after….”

“Very much so,” Crowley nods stoically. “I am very firmly on Team Tabitha here so by extension that means you two delightful gentlemen.”

You expect Dean to put up a fight now you’re no longer pregnant, their small alliance off the table so to speak but he just nods.

“Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

One second you and Dean were looking at each other, an essence of understanding, the next you were in a black swirling mist.

“I miss you, my chosen,” Amara extends her arms out to you both. “Meet with me. We have much to discuss. You will know the place.”

And then your world dissolved into brighter colours again. Dean was being propped up by Sam and you felt Crowley’s steady grip around your waist.

“Woah, another Amara flash?” Sam guesses.

“She wants to meet with us,” Dean seems extremely perturbed.

“I don’t like it,” you shake your head. “I think she knows, knows Chuck is here.”

“If she did, she woulda rolled in here already,” Dean rationalises. “But we can use this. She wants me and Tabs right? We can stall her long enough to grab Cas…Lucifer, whatever and bring him to God and maybe both of them combined will be enough.”

“You can’t bring him near Tabitha,” Crowley says firmly. “He’ll sense the bun has been well and truly pulled out of the oven. If that happens he’ll go after God himself.”

“But that might be the push that God needs to get active again. He wouldn’t just passively stand by if Lucifer attacked him. I’ve seen how close he was to losing his temper yesterday when I pushed him,” you muse. “It might actually work.”

“Such as it may be but you are going nowhere near Lucifer, pet,” Crowley says seriously.

“Excuse me?” you blink.

“I hate to say it but the King of Douchedom is right,” Dean sighs, ruffling his hair. “We’ll get Cas…I mean….ah hell I’m calling him Casifer, it’s easier. We’ll get Casifer and bring him here and put a whole bunch of spells on him to keep him contained,  _then_  we’ll bring you near him. We can’t have a repeat of what just happened before Chuck entered stage left.”

“I know you’ll hate me for saying this but I agree,” Sam folds his arms. “It’s safer to make him powerless first.”

“Well how the hell are you gonna do that if you couldn’t last time?!” you yell, annoyed they were all trying to bench you.

“I’ll ask Chuck,” Sam holds his arms out plaintively. “I mean he won’t be directly involved so he may give us a clue or something.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter. “Lucifer will do whatever he wants and Chuck isn’t going to lift a finger so this is all pointless.”

“Oh I’ll give you a nudge in this instance,” Chuck says from behind you, making you jump a foot into the air. “Here.”

He hands some handcuffs that wouldn’t seem out of place in the London Dungeons to Dean before giving a small tiny shrug.

“Why?” is all Dean says.

“I guess I need to make amends with Tabitha,” Chuck muses. “She was supposed to be in my chain of prophets until Crowley started killing them off….nice work by the way, moron.”

“What?” Crowley stutters, uncharacteristically flustered. “She was meant to be….what?!”

“Why do you think she was on a collision course with the Winchesters?” Chuck gives a reproachful eyebrow like a disapproving dad would. “She was meant to chronicle their journeys after the failed apocalypse. She would’ve been about….oh…..eighth in line, right after Donatello that is? I see you didn’t get to him though. Kinda sloppy work Crowley.”

“I’m being chided by God,” Crowley mutters in disbelief. “And I’m intimate with a prophet of the Lord. Well this  _is_ an unexpected Tuesday.”

“So she had free will right?” Dean interjects. “Tabs could’ve never come across us or told us to go to hell or whatever?”

“Oh sure,” Chuck grins. “I mean she could’ve carried on being in the Men of Letters. If I was micromanaging this story then she would’ve ended up with one of you boys but wow, the twist! The twist of her making the King of Hell redeemable is why I love humanity! Even at your core there is still the nature to want to save, to make good. This is why it’s been better to leave you all alone.”

“Crowley’s redeemable?!” Sam seems perplexed. “You mean his soul could go to Heaven?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Chuck laughs. “If he chose to. At the moment I see he’s straddling the line between good and evil.”

“I don’t believe this,” Crowley looks skywards. “This is horrifying. My public image is ruined forever.”

“Because that’s more important than knowing you knocked up a future Prophet of the Lord,” you try to make light of the situation.

“Now  _that_ , that would’ve secured my reign for dynasties to come,” Crowley gives a slight smile. “I don’t imagine many would dare challenge the product of divinity and damnation.”

“First off, ewww,” Dean shakes his head. “Second of all, we’re losing time here. Sure these things will hold Lucifer?”

“What do you take me for?” Chuck looks offended. “I’m not an asshole despite what you may think. Of course they’ll work.”

“Fine. Sammy, Crowley, get in the Impala. Chuck, make sure Tabs doesn’t follow us. Can you at least do that?”

“Oh yeah, works for me,” Chuck smiles. “I need to speak to her anyway. Good luck guys.”

Crowley kisses your cheek softly, much to the chagrin of the Winchesters before whispering in your ear, “If this doesn’t work, I will help you smite God myself. Just for a brief time, I had the image in my mind of a small child, one with my dark colouring and your kind eyes and heart. I imagined they would be inquisitive, bold, intelligent and caring. I will always keep that image, my kitten, always. So if Chuck does one more thing to put you in harms way or to distress you emotionally, I don’t care what he does to me. I will  _kill him_.”

Crowley had a very bad habit of making large and grandiose statements before possible death situations. You figured it was his way to try and reassure you, to make it seem like he had a semblance of control over the situation.

“How impertinent,” you whisper back.

“And you love it,” he chuckles, kissing you again. “Try not to get smited before I return. I’ll keep your boys safe in the mean time.”

This was a very strange week.

Crowley and the brothers were getting along better than even before they knew about your little forbidden romance. Amazing what the threat of the end of the world can do for relations.

The boys and Crowley leave and you’ve found Chuck has wandered off again so you try and seek him out. In fact, you find him in your bedroom, looking at your computer.

“Um….rude?” you quirk up an eyebrow.

“No your internet history is what’s rude, I mean sheesh, I expected it of Dean but not you,” he smirks.

“Did you have something you wanted to say or are you just determined to get on my bad side?” you huff.

“Alright,” he holds his hands up. “I’ll admit I’ve not done right by you much. I heard you, you know, that day in the Men of Letter’s headquarters. You’d never prayed to me before that day. Atheist parents, I know. But I heard you. You were so afraid, so convinced you were going to die.”

“Why would you even say that?” you slam your drinks mug down on your desk.

“I just wanted you to know I listen,” he stares at you with those big soft eyes. “I’ve always listened.”

“Fat lot of good listening does,” you shake off the memory of that training room.

“All of what you went through, it’s just made you a strong woman,” Chuck continues, ignoring your bristling body. “You as you are now, you’re the perfect prophet for the end of days. You’re brave, you’re stubborn and you don’t care about talking back to beings much  _much_ more powerful than yourself. Donatello Redfield should be next but I think he’ll be grateful if I skip him in this instance.”

“Wait, what-” you start.

He never gives you the chance to finish the sentence. Of course, once again, he’d taken away your choice as your head exploded with the sounds of divine and demonic beings. It was overwhelming.

You ended up dropping to the floor, trying to cover your ears but it did nothing to block the sound out. You heard all, everything at once and you wanted to claw your brains out to make it stop.

“Shhh,” Chuck envelops you in his arms. “Give it a moment. It’’ll settle.”

You wanted to swear at him, punch him, bash his stupid benevolent face in but the pain was too immense to even focus. You saw a brief flash of a scene, everything fading to a grim barren landscape of grey and brown. Lightning rumbled overhead. You saw Crowley squaring off to Lucifer and then…..

“See, all better,” Chuck pets your head.

The noises had gone.

It was more like a sense now. You got a sense of the radiant power of Chuck right next to you. You felt very small in that instant.

“Do you ever just  _ask_  people before you do something?!” you yell.

“So I got that wrong too?” Chuck sighs. “This is why I stopped interfering. I always mess things up more.”

“I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” you make clear. “I just don’t think it ever crosses your mind to ask what we as humanity want.”

“Oh I know what you want,” Chuck scoffs. “To win the lottery, to be able to have two or three partners on the go without anyone finding out, to have your rivals suffer. Humanity is selfish.”

“Well you created us in your own image,” you point out.

“Wow, okay,” he nods hard. “I deserved that. Fine, I’m sorry. You’re just the best person for the job right now.”

“Why not just help us instead?”

“Because my sister deserves a chance too. I was….cruel to her because I  _wanted_  to be selfish, to keep my project going. I’m trying to make things fair again.”

“You know what, just….just stop trying to help me,” you cross your arms. “Or at least ask.”

You almost fell off balance as that image of the grey world hit you unexpectedly. You saw Crowley again, shoving Dean back through a portal it seemed and turning to face Lucifer alone.

You tried to scream but nothing came out.

  
  


**

  
  


Crowley kept checking on you now and again, nervous that God would do something horrible whilst he was away. He didn’t trust the celestial being as far as he could throw him.

“Yo, focus,” Dean clicks his fingers in front of Crowley’s eyes.

“Drôle as ever, squirrel,” Crowley huffs. “I was seeing whether Tabitha was alright.”

“And?”

“She’s distressed and I don’t like it,” Crowley admits.

“You can tell that?”

“It’s one of my mother’s better spells,” Crowley explains. “Like how I knew her state of mind in the Cage. She’s distressed right now and if I just tune in like this…….she’s in pain. She’s in  _great_ pain. I have to go back.”

The hunter grabs his arm, “We can’t, not yet. We’re just about to start this horror show.”

“He might be killing her Dean,” Crowley tries to make him understand.

The Winchester looks completely conflicted, “Okay. Do what you need to.”

Crowley reached out again and found the emotion of anger and indignance. He relaxed a little then. You weren’t in mortal danger. It was only a fleeting feeling.

“She’s settling,” he informs Dean. “I’ll stay.”

“She’s a tough gal, Crowley,” Dean cocks his head in that smug way. “Give her more credit. She’s probably just socked Chuck in the face again for whatever he did.”

“More than likely. She has a worse temper than even you sometimes.”

“I ain’t arguing that,” Dean snorts. “Not much scares me these days apart from the end of the world kind of scenarios and an angry Tabs. Ah man, when I ate her last slice of cheesecake I was expecting to see her hovering over my bed at night with a blade.”

“She still might,” Crowley smirks. “She’s very particular and territorial about her food.”

This strange sensation of bonding was a little unexpected given the animosity between himself and Dean but he wasn’t rejecting it. It was nice in fact, nice to be accepted, to be hunting as an equal alongside Sam and Dean. It was all he’d ever wanted for you, a family unit that didn’t tear itself apart and for everyone to get along.

_Stay strong for me, kitten. We’ll be back in no time._

  
  


_**_

“They’re in trouble,” Chuck announces, his head turned in a direction.

You look up from your book immediately, “What kind of trouble?”

“I think my sister’s figured it out,” Chuck muses. “She’ll be trying to kill them soon I expect.”

“Well do something then!” you stand up.

“Pfft, like what?” Chuck shrugs. “I gave them a good shot at it. They knew they were on their own.”

“For Go-…..for fuck’s sake just do  _one_  thing right today? Please?” you beg.

“Are you….praying to me?” he questions, pen tapping at the side of his mouth.

“Yes, fuck it, yes I am. I’m praying that you’ll do the right thing and help them out.”

“Alright Tabitha, just this once mind,” he flashes that stupid benevolent smile and he clicks his fingers.

You hear an almighty crash from the bunker garage and the sound of yelling. You want to see what’s happening but if the plan had gone well, you couldn’t move until Lucifer was safely secured.

It took five agonising minutes before Crowley rushed into the room, hair askew, suit rumpled and wide eyed. He went straight past you to Chuck, fists balled.

“Why was she in pain earlier?” he almost bellows.

“She just accepted her future duties early,” Chuck gets up, determined not to let Crowley intimidate him. “She became my prophet.”

As well as sensing the energy from Chuck, you felt the red snare of Crowley’s power whirling around him. It was fascinating in a way. You could identify the individual by the energy signature they were putting out.

“WHAT?!” Crowley’s eyes turn fully red and you felt the spike in the power. “You doomed her to that?!”

“We’ve already had this fight, Crowley,” you tell him before this turns into a full scale brawl. “Is it done? Do you have Lucifer?”

“Yes, we have him,” Crowley’s voice is little more than a growl now. “Time for the second phase of the plan.”

He grabs your arm roughly before getting you away from Chuck and down towards the back hallways before he pushes you into the wall, kissing you aggressively.

“I never wish to feel that sensation from you again,” he says seriously, touching his forehead to yours. “God is a colossal bastard.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump back,” you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I thought about it,” Crowley admits darkly. “Wanted to but I knew you would be alright just like I know you will be alright now.”

“Time to go piss off the devil then,” you nod.

“Some peace, some peace, my kingdom for some peace,” Crowley paraphrases before regathering himself into his usual cocky stance. “Shall we, darling?”

  
  


**

  
  


To say Casifer looked like crap was an understatement.

“Oh wow, you really care you guys,” Lucifer attempts a grin. “You’re cheering me up with baby momma over there and…..”

It’s like his whole face fell. It went from triumphant gloating to pure dismay to unbridled anger.

“Where is it?” he says flatly. “My child.”

“Gone,” Dean answers for you.

“Gone?” Lucifer half smiles like he can’t believe what he’s hearing until his face contorts…Cas’s face contorts into rage. “HOW CAN IT BE GONE?!”

“Ask your dad,” Dean says almost callously.

“Tabitha?” Lucifer says in that deadly sweet tone. “My little honey bun? My ray of earthshine? Did my old man get to you?”

“Yes,” you answer, finding yourself touching your stomach reflexively.

“HE NEVER LETS ME HAVE ANYTHING!” Lucifer roars, straining at the handcuffs which you note, hold fast.

It’s nice to see he’s properly tied up. That gives you a little bit of confidence but Lucifer’s intensity still terrifies you, especially when he starts laughing hysterically.

“Boys….and you thought your dad was bad, huh? John Winchester is a saint compared to God.”

Then he does something you don’t expect.

There’s tears that spill from the corners of his eyes. You’re wondering if these are crocodile tears but he seems genuinely distraught.

“Really?” Dean grimaces. “Tears for the Antichrist?”

“Bite me,” Lucifer hisses. “Crowley understands, right? It was a shared conception after all. I’m sure she knows by now.”

“Oh she knows,” Crowley sighs. “And yes I grieve.”

“I just wanted one chance,” Lucifer grits his jaw, trying to keep his composure. “One chance to be my own person, to make my own destiny, to teach someone, to have someone love me unconditionally. It’s not a lot to ask, yet you  _apes_  get the chance to do whatever you want and I get imprisoned. So fair. Soooooo fair.”

“Okay, this teenage angst is killing me,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Would you like to meet your Dad and speak to him about it?” Sam offers.

“Yeah,” Lucifer nods. “Yeah get him down here because I  _really_ wanna see what explanation he gives for this….this  _bullshit_.”

Sam just nods before leaving to fetch Chuck.

You feel Crowley’s hand brush against your back and know he’s worried you might be losing your nerve but in truth, you felt a kind of monstrous pity for the Devil. It was strange how you could be so simultaneously afraid and yet so empathetic to him.

“No more thoughts like that,” Crowley says gently in your ear. “The devil doesn’t need your sympathy.”

You just respond by grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Oh and you’re back together,” Lucifer notes the movement. “Another kick in the proverbial teeth. Man this is not my century….”

“Probably shouldn’t have piggybacked my vessel then,” Crowley said acridly.

“Hey,  _you_  gave consent,” Lucifer points out.

You feel the power moving down the corridor outside and know that Chuck is nearly here. You squeeze Crowley’s hand even tighter, anticipating the confrontation to be overwhelming.

Again the world falls into grey and Crowley’s screaming at you to run as Lucifer bears down on him, blood coating his face and flying from his lips as he yells. It’s only for a moment but when you rock back into reality, you’re almost collapsing.

“Ohhhhhhh,” Lucifer begins laughing. “Well Dad gives me something I guess.”

“What, what’s going on?” Dean asks, looking from you to Lucifer. “What did Chuck do?”

“Made her a prophet,” Lucifer leers. “You just saw the future didn’t you, babycakes? Were we together? Were you loving it?”

“ENOUGH!” Crowley barks.

“Prophet?!” Dean cries. “You weren’t next in line!”

“He  _made_  me next in line,” you right yourself. “And now I’m having these stupid visions. I hate it.”

“God is just asking for an ass whoopin’,” Dean mutters.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” you hear Chuck enter the room. “Hello son.”

“Hi Daddy,” Lucifer answers with a cocky grin. “I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

The power in the room was suffocating. You weren’t sure you could stand it much longer.

There was going to be a full scale fight and you could just feel it. Not to mention whatever it was you saw in the future.

_Why do I get the feeling things are going to get so much worse?_


	40. End of Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of everything is coming and the internal bickering between your allies is getting out of hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Angst, Dark themes, Smut
> 
> Sorry for the delay guys, been in hospital so everything has gotten delayed!  
> Enjoy the chapter!  
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Proof reading errors likely)

“Okay, everyone out of the room except Tabitha,” Chuck orders.

“What? No frickin’ way,” Dean frowns as Crowley states, “Absolutely not.”

“I don’t care about your ego fest soap opera drama right now,” Chuck groans. “I need private time with my son and it concerns Tabitha so go….do some research. Find some allies or something. That’s what you do right?”

“Last time anyone left you alone with her, you made her into a bloody prophet!” Crowley roars. “You think I’ll let something so precious fall into your hands?”

“Oh go away,” Chuck sighs, flipping his hand and everyone else in the room disappears. “Tabitha, I have to say your taste in guys….little possessive.”

“Judgey much?” you fold your arms. “What the hell do you need me for?”

“Well, you’re here as support,” Chuck shuffles awkwardly.

“Aww,” Lucifer fakes a pout. “Is Daddy all embarrassed that he has to finally own up to his mistakes?”

“I know I did bad things to you but-”

“BUT NOTHING!” Lucifer roars, straining against the bonds. “You think after all this time you can just waltz in here and we’ll have a Jerry Springer moment? The crowd coos for us? Puh-leaseeeeee.”

“Lucifer-” Chuck tries to cut in.

“You give me the Mark of Cain? You stuff me in a cage for all eternity and when I get out and try to make something of my life, you kill my child.”

The look on the borrowed angel’s face is murderous. You didn’t realise how angry he actually was.

“Alright enough,” you wade in. “Everyone speak one at a time about how you feel aggrieved and no one interrupt.”

Presiding over God and Lucifer’s angsty family troubles was something you never thought you’d be privy too, let alone orchestrate. It was humbling in a way to see how petty they were being.

“-and I did it because I thought you could handle it, because you were my favourite,” Chuck admits, hanging his head. “And when you couldn’t…I just panicked. How am I, as the all powerful creator supposed to deal with the fact that I made a mistake? I put you in the Cage and it was wrong. I know that. I was selfish.”

“Oh, we’re getting somewhere,” Lucifer smirks in that horrible way. “I feel so light! Wow, confession  _is_  good!”

“Work with me, son,” Chuck implores. “Let’s defeat Amara and then maybe I can try and actually be something of a father to you.”

Lucifer sags against the bonds and seems to consider it for a time, “Well she  _did_  torture me. I guess I’m willing to bury the hatchet for now.”

“Great,” you roll your eyes. “Can we just get back to the task at hand now?”

“Let him out,” Chuck motions. “I’ll talk to Sam and Dean. They’ll take more convincing.”

Against your better judgement, you watch Chuck leave and move towards Lucifer, depressing the appropriate markings and muttering the unlocking spell that Sam had taught you. In approximately three seconds of being free, you’re jerked onto his lap as he puts his fingers to your head.

All the memories of talking with Crowley about Lucifer’s failed impregnation plan flood to the surface, no matter how hard you try to repress them. Oh no…..he knew.

“Clever, clever girl,” the fingers start trailing across your cheek as he grips you by the throat. “You and Crowley huh? Such a team. A devious little team. You tricked me and I don’t like being tricked. I gave you such a golden opportunity and….what’s this?”

Chuck speaking to you about Crowley’s child being fatal and Lucifer’s potential non fatal child is dredged up.

“Oooo now that’s  _interesting_ ,” his eyes practically sparkle with light. “So you would have survived.  _Very_  good to know.  Let’s just be clear on one thing, babycakes. I will get that heir from you and you will make  _such_ a good mother.”

“We’ve screwed you over once,” you growl around his tightening hands.

“I think I screwed  _you_ actually,” Lucifer laughs. “Not gonna forget that in a hurry…but if you think dear old, decrepit Crowley is gonna be your knight in shining armour, sorryyyyyyyyy. You’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Let. Go.” you snarl.

“I love your fire,” he grins in that maniacal way. “Go on then, off you go.”

He pushes you back off him almost nonchalantly.

“Just like that?” you’re confused.

“Darling, honeybun,” Lucifer pouts. “What have I always told you? I  _want_  you to want  _me_. That’s not gonna happen by force, is it? We had our moment in the Cage, we can have another one.”

“Dream on, douchebag,” you scowl before stalking out, the sheer energy he was putting out was overwhelming.

You got to the door and that feeling of pressure hit you again, taking over your senses. You saw the grey world again and a shining strip of light that Sam was running to. Dean seemed to be dragging you by force as you screamed over and over again….

With a gasp you came back, almost slumped against the door frame. You felt cold sweats, like you were actually experiencing the emotion of some future event.

“Ah rats,” Lucifer shrugs cutely. “I should’ve rooted in your nugget there for what your visions were about. Looks pretty scary whatever it is and the way you look at me…..I must be in them. Hope it’s a fun evening.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Oooooo,” Lucifer whistles. “Feisty. I like. Go on, sweetheart, go back to your false King.”

You flip him the V’s, riled up beyond belief as you stalked out of the corridor to where Sam and Dean were rushing down.

“You okay?” Sam asks immediately. “Chuck just told us he left you to deal with Lucifer alone.”

“We came as quickly as we could, princess,” Dean readies himself for a fight. “All good?”

“He’s just being an ass as usual,” you grumble. “I miss Cas.”

“We all do,” Sam sighs.

“Where’s Crowley?” you ask.

“Trying to beat up God,” Dean snorts, his sense of humour returned. “Kinda went nuts when he heard.”

“Oh Christ,” you roll your eyes. “I’d best stop him before he gets smited.”

“Good luck with that,” Dean pats your shoulder. “We’ll round up the prodigal son. Meet you in the war room.”

When you get back into the main lobby, you see Crowley scrapping with Chuck like a common bar brawl. Both of them could easily have used their powers but they seemed to want to settle it with their fists.

“You insolent speck of matter!” Crowley was bellowing. “You left her with your psycho son?! ALONE?!”

“Lucifer wouldn’t hurt her!” Chuck tries to argue, getting socked in the cheekbone.

“No, he’d just emotionally torture her for weeks until she breaks down,” Crowley snarls. “So much better. You are without a doubt, the  _worst_   maker. You don’t help anyone, you don’t save anyone, not even your own ruddy prophet!”

“Let her make that decision?” Chuck nods to you, probably knowing the whole time that you’ve been there.

“Darling,” Crowley half sprints for you, gathering you in his arms, his shirt stained with blood. “Tell me you’re alright.”

“Lucifer knows,” you whisper in his ear. “He knows you tricked him. He got close and forcibly rooted in my memories. He knows I could carry his child and live.”

“Give me strength,” Crowley sighs, turning a venomous glare to Chuck. “Do you see what you did? She’s frightened.”

“I don’t think that’s what she’s frightened about,” Chuck studies you. “It’s something regarding the future, isn’t it?”

“I’m not talking about it,” you say bluntly. “But your son is out of control. You said you’d keep him away from me and you went back on your promise.”

Chuck has the decency to look ashamed, “I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry about that. Lucifer was always….spirited. When he focused on a task he just had to get it done.”

“He’s not getting  _me_  done,” you point out. “Keep him on a short leash and I’ll call this even.”

“Can do,” Chuck nods.

“You’d better keep that promise,” Crowley says gruffly.

“Funny how any of you think you hold sway over me but sure,” Chuck says arrogantly before sitting down with his legs crossed on the table.

“Let me hit him again, teach him some manners,” Crowley half begs you, keeping his voice low.

“I wish,” you curl your fingers into the lapels of his shirt. “Just keep your cool. This is the endgame now and every needs focus.”

Crowley looks at you strangely, “There’s something you’re not telling me, kitten. Something important.”

“Trust me that it’s not the right time,” you choose your words carefully.

He looks like he wants to pry but he thinks better of it, “I appreciate that you didn’t lie and told me honestly, not that I deserve it mind. I’ve never extended that courtesy to you. You’re a far better being than myself. That doesn’t mean I am not raging with curiosity but I will respect your wishes.”

“Thank you,” you kiss his whiskery cheek softly.

“Ughhhh,” comes the voice of Lucifer from behind you as Sam and Dean bring him in. “Gross.”

“Geez it’s like dealing with the living embodiment of Daria,” Dean grimaces.

“Sit down, everyone,” Chuck motions and you all seat yourselves at the war table like generals. “Suggestions?”

“We go full God mode?” Lucifer perks up.

“It’s not enough,” Chuck leans his hands on the wood. “She’ll be expecting it.”

“Put her in the Cage,” Sam suggests. “And give me the Mark because Dean and Tabitha won’t be able to do anything to her.”

“Excuse me?” you blurt out.

“You’ve both told me you feel this weird pull towards her, like you can’t hurt her. I need to be the one to do it. We can’t psyche out at the big finale,” Sam explains.

“And what happens when you go full darkside?” Dean frowns.

“You lock me up,” Sam says stoically. “And you throw away the key for good. That is the only way the world keeps turning. You seriously can’t put your brother over the fate of the universe.”

“I can damn well try,” Dean stands up, annoyed.

“Dean, he’s right,” you say softly. “We’re both compromised.  _None_  of us are above the end of days. We’re just the chess pieces.”

“Interesting analogy but yes, she’s right,” Chuck agrees. “You all have a part to play but I don’t know what yet.”

“Helpful, dad,” Lucifer crosses his arms like a moody teenager.

“Ahem,” that shrill Scottish twang cuts across the gloomy atmosphere. “Am I late?”

“Hello mother,” Crowley nods. “Nice to see you have a spine again.”

“Oh that,” she dismisses. “Had other things to attend to, although I see Lucifer’s out and about.”

“No hard feelings, red,” Lucifer winks. “We’re all singing from the same hymn sheet now.”

“Goody,” she fakes a smile. “I suppose the showdown will take place in some grubby abandoned building? Shall we already get started or have you already hashed out today’s suicidal plan?”

“Just shut the fuck up!” you end up losing your temper, everything about this situation putting you on edge.

“Well I never!” she blusters. “Fergus, control your wee lass!”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it,” Crowley smirks. “I rather like the filthy mouth she has on her.”

“So did I,” Lucifer winks from across the table and immediately the mood disintegrates into tension again.

“I appear to have missed something,” Rowena blinks. “As always I am the last to know.”

“Oh, my son possessed yours to try to make a Nephilim,” Chuck fills in. “Man that is going to make such a weird chapter if I write any more….”

For once, the witch is stunned into silence.

“Now that’s outta the way,” Dean coughs. “Let’s get down to business. We got a rough plan, everyone willing to make this work?”

“Yes,” comes the chorus of replies.

“Go team end of days, yadda yadda,” Dean concludes. “Tool up. Meet back here soon.”

  
  


**

You went to your room, grabbing anything you could possibly think of.

What did you even take to something like this? Against God’s sister?

“Am I interrupting?” Crowley asks, sprawled out on your bed.

“Damnit,” you jump at the sudden noise. “Don’t do that to me.”

“I’m sorry, pet,” Crowley gets up, walking behind you and his hands wander onto your waist. “I admit I’m a little nervous and I wanted to be selfish and seek your comfort.”

You turn around and for just an instant the grey world’s Crowley is superimposed onto your Crowley, the expression of terror and the sheer amount of blood making your stomach turn. You end up clutching him desperately, knowing that whatever you were seeing wasn’t good.

Before you could stop yourself, you were on him, kissing him furiously.

He was shocked for a second before he wholeheartedly put himself into the action, passion bleeding through. You just kept going like you might never see him again. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe this was your last day together.

When you started tugging at his belt, he pushed back a little.

“Now?”

“Now,” you affirm, pulling it free and unbuttoning his trousers.

“With God next door? My my, you still surprise me even now,” he purrs. “Such a debauched little thing. Whatever did I do to snare such a radiant beauty?”

“Shhh,” you usher him, pulling his trousers down before fidgeting with yours. “We’ve not got much time.”

“Oh? But I want to take my time with you,” he mock pouts.

“Please,” you end up begging, just desperate to have him close as your entire lower half becomes naked.

“Please what, my love?” he teases, hiking you up onto your dressing table and divesting himself of his silken boxers.

“My king,” you say playfully.

“Anything for my queen,” he kisses your neck softly, nipping it at points. “Oh how good you feel, pet.”

His hands dig into your thighs as he parts them, clutching your lower back to bring you close.

“Just take me, Crowley,” you edge your hips forward so you can feel his hardness.

His lust seems to abate for just a second as he stares into your face, “You don’t think we’re going to make it out alive, do you kitten? That’s why you’re so insistent.”

“Please…..” the sound comes out smaller than you expect it to.

“Not on the desk then,” he comes to the conclusion, picking you up underneath your rear and bringing you to the bed, clicking his fingers so the door locks. “If this is indeed our last night on earth together as you’re making me think, let’s have a retread, shall we?”

The second your back touches silken sheets, you know you’re in his chambers in Hell. It’s comforting in a way, the smooth material caressing your back as he caresses your front.

“We still don’t have much time,” you urge him.

“I know, love, I know,” he strokes your face gently. “Can’t blame a man for wanting to enjoy the last time properly. Sadly if the universe demands we have a ‘quickie’ as it were, be prepared Tabitha.”

“Give it all you got,” you challenge him.

“Gladly,” comes the darkened reply.

He wastes no time in driving himself up to the hilt between your legs, causing you to buck up into his arms.

“Magnificent,” he rumbles.

The way he moves is primal but also gentle, like he’s savouring the sensation. He also touches any part of you he can, trying to keep contact as you both kiss with such a wildness. It’s the most emotional sex you’ve ever had and you throw away any stray thoughts of your visions, desperate not to let them interfere.

“I know what’ll distract you, my little wanton queen,” Crowley chuckles into your ear, before you feel his influence pressing against you.

Now you’re a full fledged prophet, you can see the red tendrils of his energy reaching out and stroking at the most sensitive parts of you.

“What are you doing?” you say in surprise.

“I  _did_  want to save this for a special occasion but if I’m never going to get to use it now…..” he trails off. “Oh my kitten. I did so want to see you on that throne but this will have to do. Just relax, you’ll like it. I  _guarantee_  it.”

And you did. It was almost like there were many hands on you at once, ghosting over your skin. The feeling was incredible.

“Let it out, pet. Let’s see those claws. Don’t be holding back on me now,” he purrs, nipping at the bottom of your earlobe. “Last chance to make an impression.”

He may have regretted that when your fingernails started raking down his back and you felt the skin split a little. The groan that came out of his mouth, however, told you otherwise.

“You’ve been hiding this from me,” his eyes turn red. “You little minx. You do so play on being the good girl but you like inflicting a little pain, hmm?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, digging the nails in particularly deep. “Just don’t stop.”

“Glorious,” he moans, hips stuttering with his gasp. “Let’s up this ante, shall we? I’m very aware we’re running out of time.”

The tendrils started pressing harder, rubbing against you as you sunk your teeth into his chest to quell the sheer scream building in your throat.

“I really am not going to last much longer like this, love,” Crowley warns you. “You’ve hit upon a particular kink of mine, shall we say?”

“We’ve not got much time anyway,” you urge him. “So just enjoy it.”

“Well when you put it like that,” he winks, driving particularly hard, making you clench around him. “Leave me a mark to remember.”

To which you heartily complied.

There was something about the possible finality of it all that heightened every sense, every emotion.  It made your orgasm a kind of bitter sweet that it was the best you’d had. You were sure he felt the same too as he stiffened, spilling into you before just gathering you so close into his arms you almost couldn’t breathe.

“We have to go back now,” Crowley sighs. “They’re coming to see where we are. Best not to get caught with our trousers down…quite literally.”

“I don’t want to go back. It makes it real,” you whisper.

“Come now, Tabitha, that’s not the spitfire hunter I know and love. When you see danger, you run headlong towards it, you don’t cower. Why now?” Crowley strokes your hair.

“Because this is as far as it goes. The end of  _everything_ ,” you wiggle out of his grip, looking at him firmly. “You can’t blame me for being scared.”

“No, but I can blame you for hiding away whilst your do-gooder misfit family does the grunt work,” Crowley chides. “No matter what happens, Tabitha, no matter if I die, of which I am getting that vibe from you by the way you’re acting……this is the final stand and you can’t let others fight the war for you.”

You mull it over. You  _were_  being selfish. Trying to keep Crowley away from the final battle was not going to help him in the end. Maybe it would even  _cause_  the circumstances of your vision.

God why was the future so complicated?!

“Needing an answer, my love,” Crowley taps your nose. “They’re almost at your door now.”

“Take me back,” you decide.

“There’s my queen,” he smiles slightly at you. “The second we get back, put your clothes on quickly.”

The rush gave you momentary vertigo before Crowley righted you and you jumped on your discarded jeans, yanking them on quickly as well as your boots before loudly stating things like you’d not been away at all.

“Where the hell is that holy oil?”

“Nice. Very quick thinking,” Crowley smirks in a low voice.

“Have you seen it?” you continue.

A knock sounds at your door, “You good, Tabs?”

It was Dean and you open the door, looking flustered, “I can’t find things. Why is it when it counts you can never find things?”

“We have some holy oil, it’s fine,” Dean calms you down. “Come on, it’s time to go. Got everything you need Crowley?”

“I don’t believe anyone is ever prepared for the end of days, Dean,” Crowley sighs.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Dean nods. “We’re hooking up at the power plant. Ship out.”

He leaves after dragging a few of the bags you’d already packed down to the lobby.

“Come along, pet. Time to go,” Crowley softly kisses you.

That still didn’t mean the fear was abating in your chest. It was almost like your lungs were being gripped by a hand of ice. You hated being a prophet, you hated the knowledge that it gave you.

God is an arsehole, you decide as you load yourself into the Cortina to drive you, Crowley and Rowena to the designated site.

What you weren’t expecting at the other end was to see Amara casually waiting for your little party but when you saw the slight smirk on Rowena’s face, you just about lost it.

“You told her,” you accuse the redheaded witch. “You told her we were coming here.”

“Oh pish, little lass,” she grins sweetly. “Just hedging my bets as usual. Really, what did you expect of me? I like to be on the winning side.”

“You know she’s going to wipe out the universe right? That means you won’t have a place in it.”

“She told me she would keep me safe and I have no reason to doubt her. She’s been better to me than Lucifer or you ever had,” Rowena drops the gentile act.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you hiss, turning around and punching her in the face. “You’re going to get us all killed. Well done.”

“I love it when you get violent,” Crowley chuckles. “And yes mother, you are a colossal moron. Amara won’t help you at all. You’re just a means to an end.”

“You’ll see,” she leans back in the seat, using a dainty white handkerchief to mop up the blood from your outburst.

You get out, the car atmosphere feeling oppressive and stalk towards Amara, not giving much of a toss for your personal safety. This was the end right?

“You betrayed me,” Amara sighs. “You had God next to you this whole time. My chosen….why?”

“I told you, I can’t let you destroy this world. It’s flawed,  _so_  flawed but it’s ours,” you explain. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Tabitha, so am I,” she says bitterly, just as everyone catches up. “Look what you made me do, you and Dean.”

You saw the charge of energy before she unleashed it, knocking Lucifer straight out of Castiel, the grace disappearing into the ether as the battered angel collapses. Then she turns her attention to Chuck who seems to know his efforts would be futile before he opens his arms wide and just allows her to blast him, the darkness invading his body as he screams with white light erupting from his orifices.

“STOP IT!” you yell, trying to charge Amara but she just grips you around the throat like you weigh nothing.

“Witness the end of everything,” she snarls. “You made this happen.”

When Chuck fell to the ground limp, all hope you had died.

God is dead.

God is dead and this is the end.

Her grasp around your neck tightens to the point you see dots of light swirling in your vision and then you go limp yourself with only visions of the grey world to help you into unconsciousness.

“ _TABITHA FOR HELL’S SAKE, RUN!”_


	41. Family of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All hope is lost and all you can do is turn to your family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings!  
> Just dropping another chapter down. Oof, that S11 finale was so angsty  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Proof reading errors likely)

Crowley saw you go terrifyingly limp in Amara’s grasp and lost his sanity.

He charged at her without a care in the world for himself, earning only a flick of her wrist as she distastefully sent him hurtling backwards. He got straight up though, pelting with purpose and was met alongside with Dean.

An unspoken strategy formed in that second and Crowley unleashed his demonic force, staggering Amara slightly whilst Dean grabbed your unconscious body, getting you out of the line of fire.

“You really thought that was going to work?” she scoffs. “Oh Crowley. Pathetic little Crowley. I told you there would be a day when I was stronger.”

“And I don’t bloody care,” Crowley spits. “You touch my woman again, I will end you. I don’t care how, I don’t care if it costs me my life. You will not live to regret the choice.”

A band of pressure suddenly clamped around his neck, sending blood pooling into his head as he gasped for air.

“You need to remember she is  _my_  chosen,” Amara snarls. “I do with her what I please. Your petty emotions don’t matter to me. You’ve hurt her more than I ever have.”

“But it was out of love,” Crowley hisses. “Yours is out of some megalomaniac ideal that you can mould her into some new Eve.”

“You think I want to start another world?” she laughs softly. “Oh no no no. I want  _nothing_. I want the darkness and the silence but I could’ve made her and Dean impervious to their own human limitations in the void of the universe.”

“If you think for one second I’ll accept Tabitha and Dean playing Adam and Eve you can bloody well jog on,” Crowley does his best growl with the band of pressure tightening.

“So futile,” she rolls her eyes. “All of this is so futile. Enjoy your last moments on Earth. The world will go cold soon enough.”

She disappears, Crowley suddenly able to breathe again as he rushes towards you, Dean cradling your body.

“Tell me she’s alright,” Crowley demands.

“She’s breathing,” Dean confirms. “She’s alive.”

“Well that’s one thing,” Crowley sags, the relief taking all of the tension out of his body. “And she’s unharmed?”

“Some bruising. She’ll be fine,” Dean pats him on the shoulder. “Tabs is a tough gal, you know that.”

The hunter makes to move away, presumably to check on the angel but Crowley grabs his arm, searching for the words and swallowing his pride.

“Thank you, for helping me save her.”

“Wow,” Dean laughs. “Tabs really  _has_  done a number on you hasn’t she? You know, Crowley, you’re alright.”

“Oh don’t,” Crowley groans. “The last thing I need is a Winchester’s approval.”

“None taken,” Dean pouts. “But seriously, you know I wouldn’t let Tabs die and I’m not talkin’ my own feelings here. She’s my friend.”

Crowley just nods whilst Dean shakes awake a very bewildered Castiel who seems to be the only being occupying the vessel any more, Lucifer presumably cast out. Sam was attending to God who was still alive but gravely injured.

_What a mess. How did we think we could take on such a powerful being. I’m sorry, my darling, I’m sorry I failed you._

  
  


**

You woke up in the bunker, sprawled out on one of the couches in the TV room.

The sound of clinking was unmistakeable. People were drinking and probably drinking heavily.

“Am I alive?” you blink as you sit up.

“You’re awake,” you hear the gruff voice of Crowley as he sits next to you, kissing your cheek.

“Does that mean I’m alive?” you question and you hear a few people laughing.

“Yeah princess, you’re still here. Heaven’s closed, remember?” Dean quips.

“Did we get her?”

Silence.

That silence tells you all you need to know, “Well….fuck.”

Your eyes focus and you see Chuck lying in an armchair looking very worse for wear. Rowena seems downright depressed, knocking hard liqueur back like it was water. Lucifer…..wait, that nervous shuffle was definitely  _not_  Lucifer….

“Cas, is that you?”

“It is me,” the angel confirms. “Lucifer’s essence is gone. I do not know where. Tabitha…I want to apologise what he did, in my vessel. I-”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You believed at the time you were doing things for the greater good. I can accept that.”

He tries to continue his apology but you shush him, turning instead to Sam who’s leant against the wall, deep in thought.

“What’s kicking, Sam?”

“I can’t do this,” he sighs. “I can’t just sit around and wait for the end.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Sammy,” Dean holds up his hands. “God is  _dying_.  How the hell do you think  _we_ can do any better?”

“We have to try!”

“He’s right,” you nod. “I’m not just sitting on my arse. Is there anything else we can do? We can’t have exhausted everything.”

“It’s true,” Castiel chimes in. “Not everything.”

“Well go on, Feathers,” Crowley encourages. “Spill the beans.”

“Souls,” Castiel says ominously. “Souls are powerful energy. Get enough of them and-”

“And we can make a bomb,” Rowena’s eyes light up. “Blast the little bitch to nothing.”

“Chuck, will that work?” you ask.

“Yeah, yeah it will,” Chuck nods weakly. “Remember she got power from consuming souls. Too much…”

“So we ghostbuster this thing, capture some souls and build a bomb,” you reel off. “This sounds like an action movie.”

“I love that you said Ghostbusters,” Dean grins. “Alright, Sammy and I will go soul hunting. There’s a sanatorium a little way away that has a lot. Tabs, can I put you in charge of soul bomb prep?”

“Sure,” you nod.

“Cas, take care of Chuck,” Dean continues and the angel immediately goes to Chuck’s side. “Rowena and Crowley, we’re counting on you two to make this work.”

“Don’t worry, Dean. We’ve got a very personal vested interest in staying alive,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Should I say….happy hunting?”

“We’ll be back soon,” Sam pulls on his jacket. “If she comes in here…distract her somehow.”

“I’ll just put my neck in her hands again,” you joke. “That worked for a while.”

“Tabitha,” Crowley chides. “Don’t ever make light of that. It was bloody terrifying.”

“I thought you liked my gallows humour?” you quirk up an eyebrow.

“Darling, you will be the death of me,” he groans.

“Anyway,” you turn back to the brothers. “Be safe. If you get in trouble, call for Cas and we’ll come.”

“Cheers, sweetheart,” Dean salutes you. “Good luck everyone.”

With that the Winchesters walk out and the rest of you are left to make preparations.

  
  


**

  
  


God was a whiny bastard.

He was really playing on the ‘wounded warrior’ vibe, asking for coffee and food and to have his pillow fluffed. Castiel did everything he asked, of course, but you got the sense that even the angel was a little disappointed in his behaviour.

“What?” Chuck says, the tone hostile as you grimace, watching him being wrapped in a blanket with hot cocoa being provided.

“Just man up,” you sigh.

“That’s sexist and species-ist,” he grumbles. “I can’t just 'man up’. I’m dying.”

“Then die with dignity,” you roll your eyes. “We’ve  _all_  been where you are now. Hell, all of us have been in world ending scenarios trying to save the world  _you_  created. We don’t whinge about it, we don’t throw tantrums, we just get on with it so how about you be a role model to us?”

“I don’t know how to be,” Chuck admits. “I’ve just sat on the sidelines for so long, I’ve observed. I know you’re all heroes, I know that but I can’t be what you want me to be. I can’t live up to Old Testament me because I evolved. I mellowed. Crowley can understand that, right?”

“I mellowed because of the love of a good woman,” Crowley shakes his head. “But I can still be the old me if it’s required.”

“Ah come on!” Chuck throws up his hands. “I’m not a coward.”

“Then stop acting like one,” you say bluntly. “Blankets and cocoa? Really? Get up and carry on.”

“Brits and their stiff upper lip,” Chuck grumbles as he finally stands. “Happy?”

“Yes,” you and Crowley say in unison. “Now stop abusing Castiel’s good nature and help Rowena.”

With that, Chuck flounces off, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. Castiel places a hand on your shoulder, watching him go.

“Thank you, Tabitha,” he sighs.

“You know you can stand up for yourself, right?” you prompt him. “I know he’s God and he’s your father but you don’t have to do everything he says.”

“Oh I know,” Castiel says grimly. “I’m 'the rebel angel’ remember? But family is family, no matter how….disappointing they are.”

“I know,” you lose your smile.

“Go see your brother,” Castiel says knowingly. “The end of the world is here, Tabitha. It’s time for heartfelt goodbyes. I am told this is how it is done.”

“You watch too many movies,” you manage a small grin as Castiel follows Chuck into the war room.

“Do you, pet?” Crowley asks, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Do I what?”

“Want to see your brother?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Is it better or worse to just pop up and announce this is the end of days?”

“Tabitha, my love, you’re doing it,” Crowley says firmly, taking your hand. “Because I know you and you will regret it and then I shall never hear the end of it.”

“Oh shut up,” you hiss, seeing the little deviant smirk on his face. “Just do it then.”

“Your wish is my command.”

  
  


**

  
  


You appear near Jodie’s house, right as vamps appear to be besieging it.

You watch in absolute shock as Jodie and Alistair fend them off together, deftly working in tandem as they decapitate, set off booby traps and just generally….kick ass.

“What the hell?” you breathe.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley whispers. “Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.”

Once they settle down, the threat neutralised, Jodie spots you, waving you over enthusiastically and Alistair turns, completely surprised at your presence.

“Howdy!” Jodie calls. “What can we do for ya?”

“Just a catch up,” you assure her.

“A catch up with the King of Hell by your side?” she puts her hands on her hips. “I still remember that date, Crowley.”

Crowley visibly winces, “Apologies, another time, another me.”

“I’m just kidding!” she punches you in the arm, laughing. “Dean-o told me all about the situation. Well….vented is more like but hey, congrats on whatever weird relationship you have. Sammy tells me you’re almost normal, Crowley.”

“Oh hell,” Crowley rolls his eyes. “The Winchesters have officially destroyed my reputation. I need to level the nearest town immediately.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Alistair comes up to you both, looking at you seriously. “I can’t believe you’re dating the thing that tortured me.”

“You couldn’t have told me that any of the times we chatted on the phone?” you shrug. “Get over yourself.”

“You’re a shit little sister, you know that?” he narrows his eyes.

“And you were such a weasely older brother,” you counter. “What’s your point?”

He breaks out into a grin, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, come 'ere,” you hug him. “Since when did you get good at hunting?”

“Jodie’s been teaching me. We’ve taken out a few nests recently. I figured if I was gonna get dragged into your world then I could at least defend myself.”

“You’re doing well. Maybe the Men of Letters missed a trick,” you pat him on the back.

“Oh god no,” he snorts. “I’m not joining your weird little murder country club.”

“To be fair, I quit,” you laugh.

“So what’s with the visit?” he asks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you but you never come around.”

You take a deep breath, looking at Crowley’s encouraging face for support before you launch into it, “Well, this is the end. God’s sister’s returned and is looking to destroy the world and…I don’t think we can stop her. I just wanted to….I just wanted….”

Alistair pulls you into a fierce hug, “It’s alright. I know. Me too.”

You spend the next hour with your brother, catching up, saying things that needed to be said, being a family. You felt like you really should’ve done this more often but life gets in the way, right? Or in your case, life ending events.

When it’s time to return, Jodie and Alistair pull you into a big hug sandwich.

“Do your best, that’s all we can ask,” Jodie smiles at you. “Thanks for being on the front lines.”

“Sis,” Alistair begins. “Be safe. Crowley, keep her safe or I’m coming after you.”

“Well now I am well and truly in the fold if the  _actual_ family is threatening me,” Crowley winks at you. “And don’t worry, I intend to.”

“I love you,” you hold Alistair tightly. “I probably didn’t say that enough but I wanted you to know.”

“I already do,” he smiles at you. “You came back to find me at the end of everything. Good luck, sis.”

Crowley escorts you to the edge of the property and you take a deep breath, readying yourself to rejoin the fight.

“I suppose if I asked you to run away with me, enjoy our last day together then you wouldn’t?” Crowley tries.

“Do you know me at all?”

“Worth a try, kitten,” he smiles genuinely. “You’re so inherently good and that’s why you inspire me to be better. Let’s go.”

  
  


**

  
  


“Do you want the bad news or the badder news?” Rowena purses her thin lips as she manipulates the souls.

“Go for the worst, get it over with like a bandaid,” Dean frowns.

“I need to implant the bomb into a person,” she sighs. “And then that person needs to be absorbed by Amara.”

“Absorbed?” Sam coughs.

“She did keep saying she wants us to be a part of her,” you chime in.

“So we’re back to sacrificing someone again,” Sam runs a hand through his hair.

“We’re back to sacrificing  _me_ ,” Dean nods.

“Why you?” you scowl. “Why is always you that has the death wish?”

“Because you got something to live for, princess. You and Crowley have a thing, I mean, geez, you were just pregnant with his kid. I got nothin’.”

“So I’m nothing?” Sam blinks.

“No..that’s….that’s not what I meant,” Dean says forcefully. “I mean I know you could carry on without me Sam but I’m not so sure Crowley could without Tabs….or that  _I_  could.”

“Nor me,” Castiel says glumly. “But with either of you.”

“It’s gotta happen,” Dean reasons. “Soul bomb me.”

You know there’s no arguing with him. Once Dean is in full martyr mode, it’s hard to snap him out of it. The idiot was stubborn to a fault.

“You not got an opinion?” you ask Chuck.

“Dean’s logic is faultless,” Chuck shrugs. “As the female, you’re more important.”

“ _Now_  who’s being sexist,” you shake your head. “Women and children on the lifeboat first.”

“Don’t knock it, lassie,” Rowena chides you. “You keep that little fertile tush alive. I still want that grandchild.”

“Mother, it was killing her,” Crowley interjects.

“Oh pish, she’ll be fine the next time,” Rowena dismisses. “Pipe down, Fergus, I have souls to transfer.”

“She is incorrigible,” Crowley whispers in your ear. “I’ve never seen her so desperate for something that wasn’t power.”

“Guess she really wants more family,” you whisper back. “Not that it might matter in a few hours.”

“Indeed,” he says grimly, watching as the souls are transferred into Dean. “You don’t have to come with us, you know darling. She’s already tried to kill you once today.”

“I have to. I have to see this through til the end.”

“I know, kitten, I know.”

“And that’s why I’ll be walking up with Dean so she doesn’t suspect anything,” you announce. “I’ll make it seem like I’m apologising and agreeing with her.”

“That’s a dangerous game,” Crowley growls at you.

“It’s the end of the world, Crowley. If I don’t take risks now, death is a certainty and there’s no coming back from it,” you gently kiss him, much to the chagrin of Sam and Dean where you hear 'ewww’. “I have to.”

“Now I wish we’d saved our last night for now,” he whispers in your ear.

“I promise if I live through this and the world doesn’t end, I’ll suck your cock on the throne of Hell,” you whisper back, chuckling at hearing the little strangled noise he just made.

That little flash of red in his irises was all you needed to tell you he was thinking about it so you leave him wanting more, getting up and standing next to Dean who doesn’t appear to be any different.

“Ready, Tabs?” Dean asks.

“Ready.”

  
  


**

“You come to me again, chosen,” Amara sighs, sitting on a bench and watching as the sun slowly starts dying, the glow of red casting a strange light on the grass.  “With more violence?”

“With an apology,” you start, holding your hands up in surrender. “I deserved being choked out. I was angry and I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“That’s a lie,” she calls you out. “You’re not sorry but I appreciate the nerve it took to stand in front of me again. I know Dean is carrying a bomb too.”

Oh….well this could’ve gone better.

“You saw your brother recently didn’t you, Tabitha?” Amara asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, you saw Alistair?” Dean says in confusion. “When?”

“When you were out gathering souls. I just….I needed to speak to him. He’s family.”

“Family,” Amara repeats softly, her body sagging in defeat. “You fight with him, don’t you? You both fight with your brothers?”

“Of course but we always make up because we’re blood and that means something,” Dean answers. “There are days I can hate Sam but I will always love him.”

“And I’ll always love Alistair, even though he’s very different from me,” you join in. “That’s how it goes. Everyone fights, every has moments where they don’t get along but they’re fleeting. In the grand scheme of things, you fight because you love each other.”

“I think I need to speak with God,” Amara sighs. “Will you give us a moment?”

She waves her hand and Chuck appears, limping slightly as she guides him to the bench and they begin hashing out their problems. You try your best not to listen. It’s not your issue.

“Ever think you’d been playing Jerry Springer to the creators of the universe?” Dean asks.

“Never even crossed my mind,” you laugh. “It’s progress though right? You might not need to do anything drastic?”

“I mean if they can talk it out….this will be the smoothest end to an apocalypse ever,” Dean crosses his arms. “A win would be nice for once, one where no one has to die.”

“I hear that,” you clap him on the back. “That would be a rare situation.”

You slowly see the sun start to burn bright, the red being replaced with yellow and everything looks vibrant again. You turn to see Amara and Chuck holding hands and smiling at one another.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dean murmurs.

“Thank you, my chosen,” Amara addresses you both. “We have come to see that we are indeed a family and that means we have to forgive. I will be leaving Earth and my brother will be leaving with me.”

“I mean, I’ll take those souls away first,” Chuck laughs, waving his hand and Dean glows momentarily before returning to normal. “But yeah, I think we both need to get away, reconnect. After all these millennia….I don’t even know who we are any more so it’s going to be interesting discovering that again. But thank you, I know you’ll keep Earth safe whilst we’re gone.”

“And Dean, I’m giving you something back since you gave something back to me,” Amara says mysteriously. “I’ll take you there.”

“Wait wh-” Dean starts but vanishes right in front of you.

“As for you, you should get back to your demon lover,” Amara smiles. “He really  _is_ in love with you and I see that now. It’s a family you chose.”

There’s a whoosh of air and you’re deposited in the back seat of Sam’s car where Sam, Castiel and Crowley are all waiting for your signal.

“Tabitha?!” Sam cries in surprise.

“It’s done,” you nod. “No bloodshed. It’s done. The world is saved.”

“I knew you could do it,” Crowley smiles broadly. “I think the Winchester gospel will need to make room for you to be centre stage.”

“That would be nice,” you laugh, all of the worry, all of the stress just leaving your body as you laugh longer and harder than you have done in months. “I can’t believe it, it’s over.”

Sam suddenly slams to a halt as something blocks the path, mere inches from the bunker garage and you see Castiel blink out as he’s ripped from this plain and Crowley is cast back down to Hell.

“What the heck is going on?!” you yell.

“I don’t know!” Sam turns off the car before getting out. “Stay here.”

“Like hell,” you scoff, jumping out of the back seat and into the glare of the headlights where you see Sam drop like a stone in front of you and you go into panic mode, pulling your gun out. “Hands up!”

“Well well,” comes a British voice and your stomach coils. “Tabitha isn’t it? Ketch said you were some flunky for a couple of Yankee idiot hunters but I never thought it was true.”

“Lady Bevell,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Oh you remembered? Jolly good,” she says patronisingly. “Now see, here’s the funny thing. That termination order for being a traitor is still in effect so…no hard feelings”

You see the flash of a gun and feel the pain as something rips through you. You fire off one shot of your own as a last ditch attempt before your body attempts to protect you by collapsing.

_It all feels so cold. Why am I so cold? Did she hit me? She must have. I can feel blood running down my chest. It feels so warm. I can’t even see any more. Jesus, it’s so cold….._

_Crowley….Crowley……_


	42. The British Are Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time’s running out. You’re dying, Sam’s captured and Crowley can’t get to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, hectic lifestyle at the moment.  
> Shorter chapter so I can get one out quicker :)  
> No warnings for this chapter  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Possible proof reading errors)

The instant Crowley was cast back to Hell, he used his mother’s spell to see if you were alright.

Shock, surprise, fear…..abject agony.

Whatever was happening up on the surface was not good. The more he peeked in on your emotions, the more he felt you slipping away and then he heard your prayer and it made his soul clench.

_She’s dying._

He tried to reappear in the bunker but it was heavily warded again. The only situation where that might occur is if the Winchesters had suddenly decided they hated him again or the British contingent had finally gotten bold since they had a key.

“You look angry, your Majesty,” his new assistant noted.

“Oh really?!” the sarcastic comment came out as more of a snarl and the assistant hurriedly stepped back. “Do something useful and get me Arthur Ketch and quickly!”

“Very good!” the demon fawns before disappearing.

He needed to eliminate the Men of Letters possibility before he went for the Winchester boys. No sense going in guns blazing when he had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that you were dying and if you did, they were would be hell to pay.

“You know, I really don’t appreciate house calls,” came that drawling English accent.

Crowley must have looked quite the sight because when he turned to face Ketch, the man flinched a little.

“What is going on?” Crowley asks levelly.

“What on earth do you mean?” Ketch says, confused.

“WHY IS TABITHA DYING?!” Crowley roars, the sound bouncing off the chamber walls.

“Ah. Let me just check one thing.”

The Men of Letters agent gets out his phone, scrolling through something before his jaw grits.

“Seems Lady Bevell has checked off Tabitha’s termination request. I expect she’s reached the Kansas bunker.”

Crowley grabs Ketch by the scruff of his shirt, hoisting him into the air, “So you go up there and you  _save_ her! Otherwise the deal is off, I flood Britain with every nasty little scrap of damnation down here. DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“Pray tell why is our most rebellious degenerate of such an interest?” Ketch questions, casually dangling there. “This is the second time I’ve been summoned to do something with her.”

“Because I  _own_  her and I expressly remember after our last deal that I told your overgrown boys club that she was to be left alone.”

“Ohhhh,” Ketch smirks. “I understand. She’s your pet. Well….bit of a waste of her talents but live and let live. Tabitha’s termination order couldn’t be rescinded once given because she’s still technically a traitor and our enemy.”

“ _I’m_  your enemy!” Crowley spits, shaking the man. “And we made a deal that you broke so if you  _don’t_ save her, I’ll be after you personally and I’ve already picked out your eternal punishment, _Arthur_ and trust me, it’s not pleasant.”

Crowley watches the Adam’s apple of Ketch bobbing as he swallows nervously before nodding mutely. Crowley sets him back down before waving demons to take him away.

“Are you….fond of her?” Ketch asks one last question before a demon places a hand on his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Crowley replies acidly. “A beautiful woman who can kick arse six ways from Sunday?”

“She’s one of the few women who’ve turned me down,” Ketch laughs to himself. “Well done to you old boy if she feels the same. I’ll do my best to save her.”

And with that, they disappeared.

Crowley glares at the spot where they had just been, livid at Ketch’s revelation. As if you would be interested in such an odious character. Ketch was the kind of man who used and discarded those around him. Crowley never had any intentions of doing that to you from the start.

_You’d better save her and if you don’t….Heaven has a war coming._

 

**

 

“TABITHA!”

You register hands cradling your head and your eyelids flutter open to see Sam looking panicked. You didn’t know why for a second until the pain kicked back in.

_Oh right, I was shot._

“Sam?” you manage weakly.

“Oh my god, just hang on, please,” he’s frantic, trying to put pressure on your wound. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

“I think this is it, Sam,” you start shaking. “I think this is the final curtain.”

“No no no no no,” Sam tries his best not to cry. “This is not happening, not after everything we just went through.”

“I just feel so cold.”

Your fingers were going numb and you could barely get a signal to them. You could manage to turn your head though and saw you were in a barn somewhere. You could just about feel the scratchiness of the hay beneath you. Obviously since Dean mustn’t have come back yet, Lady Bevell must have vacated the bunker to minimise the risk of Dean turning up again.

Classic tactics. You never realised just how predictable the Men of Letters strategies were until you were out of the order.

The door clangs open and Sam is forced away from you at gunpoint. The loss of the pressure on your wound hurts like a bitch and you feel more blood weeping down your torso. Your vision starts swimming as the pain takes over.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing?” you hear Sam stuttering.

“Taking out the trash.”

You know that voice.

Shit.

That was Arthur Ketch. Clearly Lady Bevell didn’t want to finish the job so Ketch was going to do it for her. You’d probably be dragged out into the field and shot in the head before being ditched in a shallow grave. Your fingerprints and dental impressions weren’t on any database, no record of you existed online so you’d just be some Jane Doe the police found…if they ever found you.

Your hands were wrenched above your head as you were dragged out of the room with Sam desperately trying to follow but being held back by the gun. You don’t manage to get the sentence out you want to say. You wanted to tell him it’d be alright, you wanted to tell him to take care of Dean and you wanted to tell him to be nicer to Crowley.

Hands came under your body, lifting you up onto a table before you heard tools clattering around you. You sincerely hoped they weren’t bone saws and that he was going to chop you up whilst you were still alive.

“Stay me with, old girl,” Ketch murmurs next to your ear. “If you die, I’m afraid I get pitchforked in the arse for eternity so I’d really rather appreciate if you clung to life.”

“Wh…what?” you spit out around the blood pooling in your throat.

“Your demonic owner has my balls in a vice grip over this,” Ketch sighs. “Crowley strikes a very hard bargain. Now this may hurt.”

You don’t even register when he’s digging the bullet out. You’re far past feeling any pain any more. You just feel numb all over and your brain is running so slowly.

_Crowley sent him? Crowley told him to save me?_

That was the last thing you thought before you just passed out.

  


**

  


You wake up but you have no idea what time it is. The room is completely enclosed and no light pokes through anywhere.

“Oh good, you made it,” comes a relieved sigh from the corner.

“I’m alive?”

“Seems that way, Tabitha,” Ketch comes over, checking your dressing. “And I get to live another day.”

“Did Crowley tell you to save me?”

“More like threatened,” the smug smile comes back. “So….what exactly is the deal between you two? Are you his personal hunter now?”

“More like Queen consort,” you groan, sitting up. “So I guess I’m like your mortal enemy right now.”

“Consort? Really? Hmmm, you mean to tell me you have some sway over the King of Hell?”

You can hear the cogs turning in Ketch’s brain, wondering how he could use this to his advantage.

“I don’t influence his opinions if that’s what you’re thinking,” you fix him with a look. “Nothing the Men of Letters could manipulate.”

“Am I really that transparent?” he leans back.

“Extremely. So now what? Do I go out and get shot again?”

“Your termination order was checked off. As far as anyone knows, you’re dead. Lady Bevell is aware that I’ve had to save you and says ‘no hard feelings’. You’re officially free of the British Men of Letters.”

“Oh good, because I joined the American sect,” you manage to swing your legs off the table. “And it’s much nicer.”

“Nicer? A bunch of rowdy drunkards going in guns blazing at random pockets of supernatural activity? They’re little more than barbarians, although I note they’ve gotten better in the last few years. I imagine that was your influence?”

“Might have been,” you grit your teeth, standing up. “You didn’t answer my question though, Ketch. What now?”

“Well now, I’ve fulfilled my duty to Crowley but he never said to return you. I’ll put you back with your giant American friend for now.”

“So…prisoner. Alright, I can deal with that.”

“You always were the rebellious one, Tabitha,” Ketch rolls his eyes.

“I thought you enjoyed that about me?”

“Still do,” he laughs clinically. “You provide endless sources of amusement for me…well…until my life was being threatened that is.”

“No hard feelings,” you parrot and he grins at you. “You’d best report to Crowley in case he goes full nuclear.”

“I most certainly will. Lady Bevell will collect you shortly. Ta ta Tabitha, work is most definitely more interesting when you’re around.”

With that, the feared boogeyman of the Men of Letters leaves.

  


**

  


“Report,” Crowley barks immediately upon seeing Ketch’s presence.

“Safe and well, though it will scar,” Ketch nods.

Crowley relaxes heavily, searching for your emotions which are a gnarl of resignment, weariness and minor pain. You were alive though, that’s all that mattered.

“Forgive if me if this is out of turn,” Ketch begins. “But do you actually….love Tabitha?”

“And that is any of your business…how?” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “This is purely a professional engagement we have together, Ketch.”

“Quite, but always nice to know someone’s weaknesses occasionally.”

That sentence made Crowley fearful and angry at the same time. Was this pathetic upstart really threatening to use you against him? The Men of Letters agent clearly didn’t know when he had the losing hand.

Crowley thought back to all those decades ago when demons roamed free in England. He’d done many a crossroad deal then, mainly musicians and actresses. It was a comfortable time in his life but the terms had been struck for the betterment of both parties.

“As I know yours,” Crowley replies enigmatically. “Check, I believe.”

“Very good, Crowley,” the smile comes as more of a grimace. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

After the man disappears, Crowley lets out a large huff, “If I see you again, it will be too soon.”

But at least you were safe, even if he still couldn’t get to you.

Crowley was a patient demon though. He’d wait.

  


**

  


You were brought by Lady Bevell at gunpoint back into the main barn where Sam was tied to a chair, his foot blistered and burned.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” you rage.

“He wouldn’t tell us what we wanted to know,” she shrugs.

“Toni, this is barbaric,” you shake your head. “Shooting me I can forgive, I’m no one’s biggest friend in the British sect these days but torturing Sam?”

“That’s Lady Bevell to you,” the words spit out. “And who says I want your forgiveness?”

“Ketch does.”

“Ketch needs to keep his opinions to himself.”

“I’ll tell him that then.”

Her hand grabs your hair, twisting viciously until it winds into the roots, “You spiteful little cow! I should have shot you in the head as a mercy.”

“Too bad you can’t do that any more then huh? Too bad I probably know information you want also so you’ll still have to keep me alive.”

“And the second your usefulness runs out, Tabitha, you’re going in a ditch somewhere.”

You manage to get a punch to her nose, shocking her enough to let go of your hair before you kick her in the chest, throwing her backwards towards the door. You’re not particularly aiming to kill her, you just want her out of the room so you can check on Sam peacefully.

You know full well Ketch has probably explained the situation and that you have to remain alive so you don’t have any fear of reprisals from the stricken woman on the floor. Lady Bevell was just talking hot air right now.

She staggers up, whirling out of the room before slamming the door shut and locking it. You take that opportunity to go to Sam.

“Sam? Sam! Wake up!” you shake him gently, wincing at how bad his foot was.

“Tab….Tabitha?” Sam blinks, trying to focus on you. “You were shot? They took you away?”

“They fixed me up and dropped me back here. Termination order was rescinded,” you lie.

“You’re moving? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Sam shakes his head groggily.

“Probably, I expect I’ll pay for it soon when I pass out but I need to make sure you’re alright,” you brush him off.

“It hurts Tabitha. They want to know how we got the sun back. They want to know about…. _those two_. I told them nothing so one chick took a blowtorch to me.”

“Jesus,” you breathe. “I never knew how much more brutal they’d gotten in the last few years. There used to be more regulations and-”

“Tabitha, just rest,” Sam implores you, leaning back in the chair. “Please.”

“I can’t, not until we figure a way out.”

“Please. You can’t do everything, you can’t be planning a Great Escape with a recently stitched bullet wound in your gut. Rest.”

“Fine,” you accept, knowing you really should.

The pain was becoming more than a dull ache and you just felt bone deep throbbing across your entire torso as well as residual tiredness. You were running on empty and you needed a recharge.

You settled by Sam’s chair, curling up on the hay before making one last prayer to Crowley and drifting off.

_Thank you for saving me, Crowley. I love you and I’ll find a way back to you, I promise._


	43. Rock is the Devil's Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam try to come up with a plan to escape, meanwhile Crowley has another crisis on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys,  
> Christmas and all. Hope you had a lovely time.  
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx  
> (Proof reading errors likely)

You heard faint voices coming from the other side of the door.

“You disobeyed a direct order!” the male voice sounded angry but also distorted like it was coming from a speakerphone.

“I did what I had to do. He’s nearly broken and as for Tabitha, she’s out of the game.”

“You terminated her? Are you bloody mad?! She has valuable information on the American sect and with her training, she’d be able to tell us every single damn weakness. Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to kill her?!”

“Oh pipe down, she’s not dead. Ketch fixed her. She’s just not as agile as she was.”

“You still shot her though.”

“Well she always was a colossal bitch. Never followed orders well, talked back to her superiors-”

“Toni, if you harm her again, there will be consequences. She’s useful. Now keep her alive. I’m coming to find you because clearly you’re not fit for the task.”

“Yes Mick.”

Then Toni must have disconnected.

Mick, your technical boss. Well shit. That really wasn’t good if he was coming here.

There’s footsteps by the door and it opens on Toni’s furious face as she strides in and throws some food trays disdainfully at you.

“Eat.”

“Colossal bitch, huh?” you fire off and her face pales at the realisation you heard everything. “And you’re such a saint? I’ve known wendigos more personable than you.”

“You little-”

“Ah ah ah,” you wag your finger. “Wouldn’t want me reporting something back to Mick now, would you?”

Toni’s face contorts with rage before she storms out, slamming the door behind her.

“Think it’s wise to piss her off like that?” Sam quirks up an eyebrow.

“Probably not but it makes me feel better,” you mumble, getting up and feeling the dull throbbing ache in your stomach still.

You manage to fumble with Sam’s bonds enough that he’s able to slip free and you help him stand up to stretch the kinks out. Sitting for so long surely has to mess your posture up.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asks, looking you over.

“I’ll live. Hurts like hell but I’ll live. Just no acrobatics for me for a while. You?”

“I can feel the skin on my foot burning still,” Sam grimaces. “I’m still trying to think of a plan.”

“If I know Crowley and Dean, they’re already thinking of one themselves. I think…I think for now we have to be the damsels in distress here and wait.”

“I don’t like it, Tabitha.”

“Neither do I but I’ve been shot and you’ve been tortured. We’re no good to anyone right now. I just hope they get here before Mick does.”

“Lovely bunch your Men of Letters,” Sam mutters.

“Tell me about me,” you nod. “There’s a reason I left when a better offer came along….”

  
  


**

  
  


“I’m surrounded by incompetent flat foots!” Crowley roars, his minions cowering from his rage. “ _None_  of you have anything to report?!”

“Your majesty, Ketch won’t reveal Tabitha’s whereabouts and the place she’s being kept is warded. We have no hope of finding her,” one of the demons proclaimed shakily.

“Not good enough,” Crowley clicks his fingers and the demon evaporates into dust. “The next person to tell me there is no hope in hell goes the same way. Now. find. Her.”

As suddenly as they gathered, all the demons vanished again.

It had been hours since he’d received word from Ketch that you were alive. Ever since he kept checking on your emotions. There was a sort of grim resolution and a thirst to fight on that he found which comforted him a little but he hoped you wouldn’t push yourself given that you’d nearly died.

_Although when do you ever listen to reason, my love?_

He decided he would go and stake out the bunker. Maybe you’d turn up there or he could meet up with Dean or Castiel to help him along. He was sure they’d be much more eager to pitch in with the fact Sam was probably in captivity with you.

When he got there, he saw a curious figure, lithe, aged but with so much charisma in his stance. The man was just looking at the bunker entrance, twirling a chain attached to the belt loop of his leather pants and he bore a resemblance to Iggy Pop in his facial features.

“Can I help you?” Crowley sounds out sarcastically. “I’m sure the nearest hotel to trash is about a mile down the road.”

“I always loved your sense of humour, Crowley.”

Crowley froze to the spot. That cadence, those mannerisms….

The man turned fully and Crowley saw the flash of unnatural colouring pass over his eyes and he knew. He knew that Amara didn’t kill Lucifer when she cast him out.

“ _You_ ,” Crowley growls.

“Me,” Lucifer smirks. “I mean this body is just…..eh…..but the chicks still dig it. I’m not sure Tabitha would though. Maybe I need to get a vessel that’s more….New York stock market broker.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think, dumb dumb?” Lucifer laughs. “The Devil is still feeling awful broody. You think because that pissing match with God and Amara happened that I forgot? That I forgot that you betrayed me? But here’s the thing, it told me something useful. It told me she’d survive a nephilim birth. And that means….we can be a happy widdle family.”

Crowley winced at the baby talk but that didn’t stop the hairs from standing up on the back of his neck.

So that was his aim. He’d never really changed it, he’d just decided to play along whilst the Darkness was active. You were still in the line of fire and Crowley desperately needed to get rid of the archangel once and for all.

“Oh I see,” Lucifer starts laughing. “You’re thinking how you’re going to destroy me, huh? How you’re going to save your precious….queen?”

“I have told you before you overstuffed mattress filler. She’s  _mine_.”

“Not for much longer,” Lucifer says in a sing song voice. “Well…this has been fun but I really must be going. From your panicked expression I would say you don’t know where Tabitha is at all sooooooo…I have a Brit to catch. Ta ta or whatever it is you say.”

Then Crowley was alone outside the bunker.

“BOLLOCKS!” Crowley shouts into the ether, his hands clutching his hair.

Could he not have just one crisis at a time any more?! Not only did he have to worry about you being captured by Ketch and his cronies but now Lucifer was after you again.

He sent a quick text.

**Crowley: Not been able to find Tabitha and Sam yet. Demon warding. Got another problem. Lucifer is free and in another vessel. He’s coming after her.**

**Not Moose: We’re going after Sam and Tabs. You take care of Lucifer until we can get there.**

**Crowley: Understood**

Well at least that was simpler than he’d expected. The hunter was actually being proactive for once. He could at least trust that Dean would do his utmost to find you, lovesick puppy that he was.

_Now I suppose I have a devil to wrangle…the things I do for you Tabitha…_

 

_**_

 

“ _Tabithaaaaa,” that voice, rich with many years of cigarettes and alcohol abuse. “Baby, I miss you. Won’t you come back to me?”_

“ _Who are you?”_

“ _Aww, I’m so crushed, Tabby. We had a moment didn’t we? Down in the cage.”_

“ _Lucifer?!”_

_He appeared to you in the guise of Vince Vincente , lead singer of the Ladyhearts but every so often,  the face would morph back into the vessel of Nick._

“ _Bingo. Not even ol’ Auntie can get rid of me, sweetheart. So…..I wanna pick up where we left off.”_

“ _We didn’t leave off with anything. You duped me into having sex,” you snarl. “You know, you’re right, you almost had me fooled in the cage but you threw that all away when you tried to kill everyone I cared about.”_

“ _Ah come on, you can’t still be mad about that?” Lucifer pouts, the form fully transitioning into Nick. “There we go, a more familiar face…you like this face, don’t you Tabby?”_

“ _Stop calling me Tabby,” you growl._

“ _Alright, sweetcheeks? Honey bun? Darling? Light of my life? Hot little piece of ass? Which do you like?”_

“ _I’m not doing this. Go away.”_

“ _Fineeeee but you will come back to me. That much I know and it will be willingly. Get some sleep Tabitha. You’ll need it.”_

_He blows you a kiss before you hear the sound of someone calling your name._

Sam. Sam was calling you.

“Tabitha wake up!”

“What?!” you jerk upright, your nap interrupted.

There was a boom at the door as if someone was thrown against it before it bursts open and Dean rolls down the stairs. You manage to prop him back up just in time for Lady Bevell to stagger through.

“Hey Tabs,” Dean grins stupidly. “Sammy. Looks like we gotta fight on our hands.”

“She’s got a gun!”

Dean’s head whips up and he throws himself at her, knocking the sidearm from her grip as she lands with a heavy thud on the stairs, her back cracking as she does so. They scuffle for a while, each trying to get purchase on the grip of the gun before Toni’s hands close over it and she points it firmly at Dean’s head.

“Now now, cowboy. You can join your yippee ki yay brother over there and the traitor.”

“Hey! Don’t call her that, you toasted muffin freak. She’s the best thing you ever lost from your creepy Addam’s family cult.”

“Oh please, don’t tell me you’re soft on her too,” Toni rolls her eyes. “Bloody hell she must be a fantastic fuck for this many men to play hero.”

“You watch your damn mouth,” Dean snarls.

“This many men?!” you blurt out. “What do you mean?!”

“Well your two knights in plaid armour there, Ketch and the King of Hell it seems. Oh it’s quite alright, classic tactics to keep yourself alive. I applaud it in fact but it doesn’t change the fact they’re all going to die for you.”

“You can’t kill me, Toni. Mick would terminate you himself.”

“Shall we see about that?”

She clicks off the safety and aims it at your head.

  
  


**

  
  


Crowley was rooting through the back of the Ladyheart’s dressing room when he heard two footsteps stop behind him and he stiffened his back.

“Looking for someone?”

“Well I rather think I’ve found him,” Crowley turned around slowly, so as not to give his budding sense of fear away. “I thought you were….looking for Tabitha?”

“Ah, she’ll come to me,” Lucifer smirks. “See, I’ve already put the idea in her head and knowing her sense of morality, she won’t just let me roam free on Earth. I don’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Awfully lazy if you ask me,” Crowley quirks up an eyebrow.

“Oh? She likes to be chased, huh? I’ll bear that in mind. Hey, thanks pal,” Lucifer winks.

“No,” Crowley blusters. “No I didn’t mean that. I mean she’ll never willingly entertain you. She’s made her choice very evident.”

“Her choice of a petty soul salesman?” Lucifer scoffs before flicking his wrist and sending Crowley crashing into the dressing room mirror. “It’s a phase. All girls bring home a guy their dad would hit the roof over whether he be a criminal, an older man….a demon.”

“How dare you!” Crowley rises to his feet, eyes flashing red. “Just know this, Lucifer, she will  _never_  consent.”

“She kissed me once, she’ll do it again,” Lucifer just shrugs. “She’s weak for the tragic backstory because it jives with her own.”

“What?” Crowley says confused.

“And you say  _I’m_  lazy,” Lucifer rolls his eyes.

“She has a family, the only thing tragic is her Hogwarts school for demon hunting.”

“Not her biological family,” Lucifer tuts. “Her and her brother were adopted. Her  _real_  family…..her real family were killed in the Marchioness disaster when her mother’s ten years were up and the hellhounds knocked the steering console causing the crash.”

“Ten…..ten years?”

“Oh yes, Crowley,” Lucifer’s eyes are practically glittering. “Tabitha’s mother made a deal you see, with a crossroads demon in the early eighties.”

“No…..”

“I think…..it was you, wasn’t it?” Lucifer’s grin is malevolent now. “You see, Tabitha’s  _actual_  last name is Everly.”

Everly.

He remembered.

He’d made a deal with a young woman who was struggling to have children. She’d asked for ten years of fertility. In that time she’d had a son three years after and a daughter the same year as the crash. Fertility was not an instant process after all.

“There we go. See I  _do_  do my research unlike some,” Lucifer laughs. “Isn’t that fun? You were responsible for Tabitha being in the world but also responsible for killing her parents. I wonder what would happen if I told her….”

“Don’t.”

“Maybe,” Lucifer twirls on the spot. “What’s it worth to you?”

“Please don’t tell her,” Crowley pleads, fearing that you’d disown him forever.

“Oh and Crowley? She knows she’s adopted by the way, she also knows something freaky happened to her parents. So what is the little British hunter going to do when she finds out it was you?”

“DON’T TELL HER!”

“Awww,” Lucifer pouts. “Poor poor little doggy. So afraid her love will be conditional. Here’s my terms. Stand aside. Let me try and seduce her. If she rebuffs me, fine, I’ll look elsewhere for a suitable mother but your secret will be safe.”

Could he really do this? It was like two crippling sets of anxieties were warring with each other.

On the one hand he was afraid of your reaction should you find out your parents were dragged to Hell. Lucifer was right, he was scared of the notion that your love would be conditional. On the other hand, he was deathly terrified of letting Lucifer attempt to beguile you. You’d let him in once before and who’s to say you wouldn’t again if Crowley stepped aside?

“What’s your answer, Crowley?” Lucifer smirks, knowing he has him in a complete bind.

_Either way I have to trust that your love for me stays true, kitten. Is it better to keep a secret hidden or to step aside?_

 

**

 

“Don’t do it!” Sam and Dean shout in unison.

“Oh do shut up,” Lady Bevell sighs. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m in charge here.”

“I will kill you, do you understand?” Dean shakes with anger. “If you shoot her I will kill you.”

“Already did it once, didn’t stick,” Lady Bevell replies acridly.

Dean just turns to you in surprise but you don’t say anything. Out of the corner of your eye, you’re watching the figure approach Toni silently. You try to stare directly at the Men of Letter’s agent so as not to give the game away but you’re still tracking the approach until the blonde older woman strikes Toni in the head, knocking her out.

“Nice assist,” you note.

She just nods at you before her eyes land on Sam who seems absolutely shocked.

“Mom?”

“Wait, what?” you blink.

“Uh, long story short,” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Amara. Amara brought back our mom.”

“You’re Mary Winchester?” you gaze at her dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” she says, tying Lady Bevell up with the ropes used on Sam. “Quite an awakening. I take it you’re Tabitha? Dean’s told me about you.”

“Good things I hope,” you mutter, taking one step towards the door but your legs give out with sudden weakness, one of the stitches in your stomach ripping with the effort sending blood gently trailing down your torso.

“Tabs!” Dean cries, coming to pick you up. “Ah Jesus, what the hell did she do to you?”

“She shot her Dean,” Sam replies, Mary coming to loop his arm over her shoulder to help him walk. “She shot her in the stomach then another one of them did surgery on her.”

“We’re getting outta here, right now,” Dean’s face becomes cold and impassive as he picks you up bridal style before marching outside. “Leave the Brit broad here to rot.”

As your tired little party makes it out of the barn, you see Castiel waiting outside nervously fiddling with the cuffs of his trenchcoat.

“Cas, need some help here,” Dean grunts, setting you down on the floor.

“Uh, Dean?” Castiel nods to his left and you look to see Mick Davies standing there with his arms folded in front of him.

“Hello Tabitha,” Mick nods.

“Stay away from her,” Dean pulls his gun out of the back of his jeans.

“Not here to make trouble lads. Just wanna talk,” Mick holds up his hands. “Lady Bevell was outta line. I didn’t instruct her to do this. I told her to make contact. Go on, heal her angel.”

Castiel wastes no more time. He drops to your side, healing your gunshot wound further and the stitches push themselves out of your body before the skin knits together until only a thin silver circle is left.

Mick sits down on his haunches so he can look at you better.

“I really am sorry about her, Tabitha. Despite what you did, I always liked your sense of attitude. It was refreshing.”

“Look where it got me,” you huff, getting to your feet and watching him rise with you.

“Now I have to assume that the reason you put England in that state with the demons was for something important?”

“I wanted to make an alliance between the American hunters and the British ones,” you say truthfully. “That was my goal in the beginning but you all turned your backs on me. I was trying to be proactive.”

“And it was the right thing to do,” Mick nods.

“What?”

“Come off it, the golden age of the Anglo-American order? Who wouldn’t want that again? The world was a better place for it. So I say to you now, and think about it before you answer, do you want to continue the work you started? You’d be reinstated in the Men of Letters and I’d keep Bevell away from you.”

“A clean slate?” you whisper.

“Don’t do it,” Dean says in your ear. “They wanted to kill you.”

“I can tell your mates don’t trust me,” Mick nods. “So I’ll leave it up to you. You still have my number. Gimme a call some time.”

With that, he walks off into the barn whilst your rag tag party makes off for the bunker.

Too many revelations, too much had happened. Your mind couldn’t process it all.

You ended up praying to Crowley, telling him you were safe and heading home before falling asleep on Dean in the back of the car, exhausted down to the bone.


	44. Reunion Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regrouping after your torture by the British Men of Letters, you can finally turn your attention to the Lucifer problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a regular proof reader which makes this easier!  
> Have an update guys!
> 
> \- TLP xx

__

_Flashes of greyed lightning erupted overhead. The earth smelled stale and dead. Then, a sliver of light called to you, hovering above the wasted ground; just a sliver._

“ _Tabitha, run!”_

“ _Oh my little cupcake isn't running anywhere,” Lucifer drawls with a devilish delight._

“ _RUN!” Crowley bellowed at you._

You awoke with a start in the back of the Impala, just as Baby pulled into the bunker lot.

“You okay there princess?” Concern coats Dean voice.

“Another vision.” You try and massage the pounding headache you now have. “Being a prophet sucks.”

“She's a prophet?” Mary raises her brows at you in the rear view mirror. “Well that sure is handy.”

“Only handy enough that I'm getting snippets of the future,” A distressed sigh escapes your lips “but not enough to know what's going on.” You stretch your back with a scrunched face. “So in other words, it's useless.”

“Yeah but be fair, you will be able to translate the Word of God now.” Sam points out.

“Whoop di doo,” You roll your eyes and Dean snorts, inelegantly.

When you get into the bunker, you're immediately rushed by a blur of black, as Crowley's overcoat fans out behind him. He draws you into his arms, head resting on yours.

“ _That,_ was terrifying.” He sighs in relief. “Are you alright, pet?”

“Yeah, Castiel healed me so I'm even scar free,” You nod. “I'm tough remember?”

“Oh I that have no doubt,” He pulls away, smirking. “but all the same, try not to stand in the way of a bullet again. You'll send me into an early grave with worry.”

There's a small noise of disgust from Dean as Crowley gives you a soft kiss and a noise of interest from Mary.

“Isn't he a....” She trails off; mouth agape, and her face contorted in confusion.

“A demon, yeah,” Sam nods, pushing her forward to the War Room along with Castiel. “It's a long story.” He sniggers half-heartedly.

“Put her down Crowley. We have things to discuss,” Dean huffs, disgust more than evident in his distatefull words.

“Forgive me, Dean. I didn't realise I wasn't allowed to care for her wellbeing.” comes the barbed reply before he whispers in your ear. “And I'll do much worse things to you tonight, darling. I've missed you horribly.”

You try to hide your smile and lead him to the chairs. When all six of you sit down, it's almost like a proper war cabinet meeting rather than the usual breakfast table.

“So we have a problem,” Crowley starts.

“That's not the Brits,” Dean adds.

“Quite,” Crowley's eyes flare at the interruption but he keeps himself restrained. “Lucifer has attached himself to a new vessel. Namely one Vince Vincente.”

“So that's why he appeared that way in my dream,” you murmur.

“I'm sorry, you _dreamt_ about Vince Vincente?” Dean scowls. “And you were going to tell us...when?”

“Between me getting shot and having back alley surgery of course,” you sass back and Dean falls silent.

“Carry on, Tabitha,” Mary elbows Dean in the side. “My son apparently has no manners.”

“I'll quickly catch you up then, because I have no idea how much you know,” you nod. “I got trapped in the Cage with Lucifer for about a month where he tried to break me down into saying yes to being his vessel. During the end of that time, he confessed he wanted an heir and that I was the perfect person to give it to him. Ever since, he's been very single minded in chasing after me to get what he wants-”

“And bodysnatched Crowley once to....you know....” Dean cuts in.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me Dean,” Crowley glowers. “Not my finest moment but at least I stopped him from getting her pregnant.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” you launch back into it. “God's sister ended up throwing his essence out into the wind and it's apparently found Vince Vincente. When I was passed out in the barn, he appeared to me and said he wanted to pick up 'where we left off'.”

“My brother intends to continue his pursuit of you,” Castiel says seriously. “He is directionless right now after father left. Perhaps we can intervene and steer him on a different path before Tabitha becomes the only thing he fixates upon.”

“Tabitha, can we have some girl talk?” Mary waves you over. “You boys can start researching where this Vince will be.”

“Sure,” you nod, following her into one of the back rooms.

“You really have had it rough, haven't you?” she sighs, once the door is closed.

“It's my life, I'm used to it,” you give a small smile. “Doesn't sound like your early life was all roses either.”

“No, it was not,” she laughs softly. “I couldn't help but notice from the way Dean talks about you that he's kinda...”

“Got a crush on me?” you finish. “That road has already been walked.”

“Just as long as you never make it a love triangle, I don't care. Don't mess about with my boys.”

“I never intended to,” you shake your head. “Dean's my friend. That's all I've ever treated him as.”

“Good,” she eyes you, pouring a lot of maternal warning into it. “I may have missed out on decades of their life but that doesn't mean I'm not their mother.”

“I would never expect anything less,” you assure her.

“Come on then,” she puts her arm around your shoulder to lead you out. “And thank you. Thank you for taking care of my boys these past few years.”

“Always.”

  


**

 

Finding Vince Vincente was difficult.

You'd dressed as music agents, trying to bluff your way into knowing his next press release or studio session but all you saw was a trail of destruction.

Lucifer had obviously worked out the blind faith rock fans have in their idols and was twisting it, testing it for his own amusement. You'd come across one girl who'd carved Vince's name into her chest and actually seemed happy about it.

“This is abhorrent,” Castiel frowns as you leave the girl in the hospital. “Lucifer is going too far.”

“I think he's just trying to find his place in life now he's free,” Sam suggests.

“His place is in the damn Cage, Sammy,” Dean scowls. “He's getting bigger up here, he needs to be contained.”

“His _ego_ is getting bigger up here,” you butt in. “He's after worship that doesn't involve goats and chanting.”

“We're gonna have to try a new angle,” Sam sighs, leaning against the wall.

“Okay, okay, how about Tabs is an up and coming rock star and she wants to open for Ladyheart?” Dean tries.

“Present her as a fan?” Castiel tries to understand.

“Ah geez,” Dean shakes his head. “When bands play gigs, they have an act to open up for them and get the crowd goin'.”

“So she pretends to be a musician and that is our entrance?”

“I don't know about you guys but I have nothing that screams glam rock,” you shrug.

Dean says nothing but pulls out his phone and texts somebody. You're wondering what the hell he is doing but you get your answer very quickly.

“Am I some sort of demonic Tim Gunn to you two?” Crowley appears, folding his arms. “Because the plaid is definitely not working out.”

“Can it, Crowley. We just need Tabs to look like she's in a hair metal band. Can you do that?” Dean asks.

“Don't insult me,” Crowley rolls his eyes, preparing his fingers to snap. “Like I've never wanted to see her in leather trousers.”

“Quell your bickering,” Castiel gets irritated. “This is important. Lucifer is amassing a new flock as we speak.”

“Fine, Feathers. You make a good point,” Crowley nods before clicking his fingers.

There's a bit of a gasp and you assume you look totally ridiculous. Glancing down, you see a ripped pair of leather leggings, buckled boots, a top that's a mixture of mesh and sliced zebra print spandex and a sequined scarf that's tied around your waist.

“Wow,” you breathe. “Who said the eighties were dead?”

“Damn, Tabs,” Dean laughs. “I dig it.”

“That's....a look,” Sam's eyes are wide.

“What does the hair look like?” you ask suspiciously.

Crowley produces a mirror for you from his overcoat and you take in the immensely curled and teased thicket of hair on your head that you swear has glitter shining on it.

“Christ,” you feel it, noting how wide your head now felt. “This feels weird.”

“But you look great,” Dean flashes you two thumbs up, grinning like an idiot. “This is totally gonna work.”

“Mind if I accompany you?” Crowley asks. “I've got a bone to pick with our Mr Vincente.”

“By all means,” Sam shrugs. “Join the Lucifer hunting club.”

“Now, can we leave?” Castiel says hurriedly. “Time is not on our side here.”

“Sure, Cas,” you assure him.

You got why he was so anxious. He still felt guilty for saying yes to Lucifer and you surmised he wanted to prove himself by taking him down again.

In truth, you felt very anxious yourself.

After everything you went through with Chuck and Amara and now the British Men of Letters, it felt like only a very brief reprieve from Lucifer's attentions and now you were in the spotlight once more.

“Don't worry darling, I'm with you,” Crowley squeezes your shoulder, a warm smile.

Sometimes you wished he couldn't read your mind.

 

**

 

You intended to find Vince's agent to try and carry out Dean's plan but they weren't in their office. In fact, they were apparently setting up a surprise Ladyheart gig at a local club for 'VIP fans'.

That didn't sound good at all to you. You had the feeling that he was going to try something but exactly what, you couldn't say.

“Prophet senses tingling?” Sam notices your expression as you stand outside the club.

“Something's going to go down,” you murmur. “I just-”

Pain flashed through your head as images of Vince holding a crowd hostage and then....then the President of the United States?! Something to do with the President.

“Tabitha!” Crowley's holding you upright with Castiel's help as the angel gets your temperature down.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” you assure them but two very anxious Winchesters and a worried angel and demon stare back disbelievingly. “Alright, fine. I had another vision.”

“And?” Dean prompts.

“He's going to kill the crowd....or make them kill themselves,” you try to piece together what you saw. “Like that Heaven's Gate kinda cult leader thing.”

“Sonovabitch,” Dean hisses. “He needs to go down.”

“There was something else. The President.”

“He's going after the President next?” Sam asks.

“I don't know. These visions, they're not very clear and once they're over, trying to remember them is like trying to remember a dream.”

“Don't pressure her,” Crowley guards you with his arms. “Prophecy is not an easy burden.”

“Don't mollycoddle her, Crowley,” Castiel says reproachfully. “She's brave and her constitution is strong.”

“Oh Feathers, sometimes you should hear yourself,” Crowley sighs.

“Come on, we need to go in,” you shake them all off before approaching the bouncer on the door.

He nods at your attire, stepping to let you pass but Dean, Sam, Castiel and Crowley are all denied entrance.

“Sorry, you're not the type Vince wants in here,” the bouncer shrugs.

“Now wait a minute,” Dean raises a pointed finger. “I know all the damn lyrics to every Black Sabbath song.”

“Move along old timer,” the bouncer blocks the doorway.

“OLD?” Dean cries in abject horror.

You can see Crowley _and_ Sam trying to suppress sniggers. You just shake your head and motion to the side, hoping they catch on to sneak in the back entrance.

“Be careful,” Crowley mouths at you before you turn around and enter the buzzing crowd.

Ladyheart had not come on the stage yet so you just mingled into the throng of rockers. You thought you'd look out of place but you fitted in extremely well.  Now all you could do was wait.

It took a while and some sound setting up by the roadies but eventually members of the band started walking on to thunderous screams and stamping feet. Then you saw him.

Vince Vincente.

You tried to hide yourself a little behind a tall guy with flowing hair that put yours to shame. You had no idea if he'd spotted you yet.

“Hello L.A!” Vince cries and you see the mannerisms of Lucifer shining through blatantly. “Some fresh faces here tonight. Tonight's not gonna be your typical show. You see, tonight, my new muse is here.”

When the spotlight is directed on you, your heart sinks.

He knew you'd come. Of course he'd spotted you instantly. You shouldn't have underestimated him.

“Come up here, sweetheart,” Vince holds out his hand and you really can't do anything other than take it because the crowd is almost pushing you towards the stage. “Ain't she a beaut?”

There's whooping and cheering as Vince steps away from the microphone, pulling you with him and whispering in your ear, “I missed you.”

“The feeling isn't mutual,” you hiss quietly.

_Hurry the hell up, guys!_

“Aww baby. Don't be this way. It's the body isn't it? I'll find a way of getting the one you like. I promise,” he coos before releasing you and returning to the microphone.

“Tonight you're gonna hear things and feel things you've never felt before.”

Bang!

Dean fires a gun into the ceiling just as the fire alarm goes off and a screaming crowd suddenly ebbs backwards, racing for the entrance. Vince tries to pull the door shut but Sam wedges himself into the gap, pushing it open so people can run out.

Crowley tries to blindside Vince with an angel blade but he's caught by the throat.

“Never took you for a martyr, Crowley,” Vince chuckles.

“I'm really not,” Crowley rasps out around Vince's hand. “I just hate you that much and you're attempting to kidnap my woman.”

“You can't blame me,” Vince pouts. “We've both had designs on her. She just fits into my design better than yours and you know, I could get used to this rock star thing in the mean time.”

He flings Crowley off the stage and the King of Hell skids into the back wall with a loud thump just as the last fan leaves. Sam collapses out of the doorway as it slams behind him.

You manage to get your angel blade out of the back of your trousers and slice upwards, causing a cut from Vince's ribs to his collarbone. Angelic grace beams out, temporarily blinding you but you stand your ground.

“Foreplay huh?” Vince stumbles backwards before he sees the brothers charging him and flings them back with a wave of his hand, knocking into Castiel where they sprawl in a heap on the floor.

“Why are you still doing this?” you circle him as he circles back. “You made up with God? You don't need to act out any more. You don't need to prove yourself.”

“I'm not especially interested in his opinion. Dear old dad, he finally apologized for abandoning me and what's the very next thing he does? He ditches me and you too, by the way and rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara. He needed my help, and he'd say anything to get it. His words, your words, they mean nothing. Don't you get it? This is all meaningless. Heaven, Hell, this world. If it ever meant anything, that moment is past. Nothing down here but a bunch of hopeless distraction addicts, so filled with emptiness, so desperate to fill up the void… they don't mind being served another stale rerun of a rerun of a rerun. You know what my plan is? I don't have one. I'm just gonna keep on smashing Daddy's already broken toys and make you watch.”

As he's monologuing, you see tiny spidering veins of grace running through his body, searching out the weak points. His vessel was giving out. If you could just distract him long enough, the body of Vince might implode. You'd done enough damage to hurry up the process.

“So why me?” you hold out your hands. “What do I have to do with your destruction free for all?”

“Call it a mid life crisis, cupcake,” he smirks. “Once I get this outta my system, because it will get boring, I'll be ready to settle down. Don't you see how considerate I'm being?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Crowley attempting to move back into the fight but you direct a thought at him.

_Stay there, I'm distracting him. His vessel is cracking._

Immediately he stops before relaying that message to the others as you continue talking.

“Considerate? You seem to be under the impression that I want you in any kind of way.”

“You're kidding yourself,” that cocky stance comes out. “If you didn't want me, you wouldn't have given into me. I told you you would. You're playing hard to get in the worst way but I'll play ball. I'll wait.”

“You won't have to wait much longer,” you pointedly look down.

Vince sighs, noticing his deteriorating body, “Well would you look at that? Kicking your boyband's ass really took it outta me. See you real soon, babe.”

With a final wink, his grace escapes Vince's body and dissipates into the air. The corpse just dully lands on the stage, the face caving in, smouldering slightly.

“Nice work,” Dean calls. “Very Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“As long as I'm Indiana,” you quip back, jumping off the stage and joining the boys. “At least we stopped him hurting anyone here.”

“Yes but he will regroup,” Castiel says seriously. “Once Lucifer sets his mind to something he will stop at nothing until it's done. We can't dally.”

“Maybe Tabitha's vision is the next clue,” Sam nods.

“The President? He's going after the President?” Dean muses.

A horrible thought comes to you, one that when you look at Crowley, he turns an odd shade of pale before nodding in agreement.

“No....I think he's going to _be_ the President,” you explain. “You heard what he said. He wants to cause destruction on a big scale and who has the power to cause the most damage in this country?”

“Goddamn,” Dean breathes.

“So if he's going to make the President his vessel, how the hell are we gonna be able to get to him?”

It was not going to be easy in the slightest. You can't even imagine how you'd breach The White House of all places. Security, the army....

Lucifer had found the perfect vessel that you could never get near.

  



End file.
